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“ HE SPRANG UP, AND ONCE MORE LAID A HAND ON THE 

SWINGING LIMB.” 


{See page ly.) 


HER SAILOR 


^ ILobe Storg 


by/ 

MARSHALL SAUNDERS 

AUTHOR OF 

“BEAUTIFUL JOE,” “ROSE A CHARLITTE,” 
“ DEFICIENT SAINTS,” ETC. 


“ Now if you love the southern sea 
And pleasant summer weather ; 
Come, let us mount this gallant ship. 
And sail away together.” 



BOSTON 

L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY 

(incorporated) 

1900 


1 Ibrft ry 

of Congres:^ 


Off! 

of thft 


NOV 



Register 

of Copyrights 

'' X 

\ I'"’ ' 





4865 ? 

Copyright^ i8gg 

By L. C. Page and Company 

(incorporated) 


SECOND COPY, 


Colonial IPreaat 

Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. 
Boston, U. S. A. 


I DEDICATE 


THIS MY FIRST STORY 
TO MY MOST INDULGENT CRITIC, 

THE ONE WHO WILL HAVE MOST PATIENCE WITH ITS 
IMPERFECTIONS, — MY BELOVED MOTHER, 

iKlarta iFrecman .SaunHers 

OF HALIFAX, NOVA SCOTIA. 





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PUBLISHERS’ NOTE. 


Miss Marshall Saunders’s first published work was 
issued in England in 1889, under the title, **My 
Spanish Sailor.” In the present volume, while not 
materially altering the plot or action. Miss Saunders 
has added a number of new incidents, and, as indicated 
by the change in title, has made some minor changes 
in the time and scene of the original story. 




CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. ’Tis THE Unexpected that Occurs. . ii 

II. Schoolma’am and Wife, but Never a 

Mother 27 

III. She Who Fights and Runs Away . 45 

IV. Rubicon Meadows Are Left Behind . 55 

V. Fellow Ships on the Sea of Life . . 70 

VI. Let Us Make a New Beginning . . 86 

VI 1 . We Are Progressing loi 

VI 1 1 . Beware the Fury of a Patient Maid . 117 

IX. Since You Refuse, I Threaten . .127 

X. A Girl’s Will Is the Wind’s Will . 135 

XI. A Rebuff for Adonis . . . .147 

XII. An Unsatisfactory Interview . .163 

XI I I . A Little Idle Word 179 

XIV. What Are Your Wishes? . . . 194. 

XV. What Is Love? 203 

XVI. Pernicious Words Impregned with Rea- 
son 225 

XVII. “Much Have I Borne, Since Dawn of 

Morn ” 239 

ix 


X 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 



PAGE 

XVIII. 

Distress and Sweet 

Submission 

. 257 

XIX. 

In Pleasant Summer Weather 

. 263 

XX. 

The Secret of Her 

Life . 

. 285 

XXI. 

“ Alone on a Wide, 

Wide Sea ” 

. 304 

XXII. 

I Love You . 

.... 

• 313 


HER SAILOR. 


CHAPTER I. 

'tis the unexpected that occurs. 

“ I must wear a willow garland, 

For my love is on the sea ; 

He’s a gay and gallant rover, 

And I ’spect he’s false to me.” 

The particular weeping willow from which this 
garland was to be gathered was one of the most 
pliant and flexible in Rubicon Meadows, and it 
needed to be so ; for many years it had been used 
as a rocking-horse by the slender, graceful girl 
swinging on one of its drooping branches. 

Up and down she went, seated comfortably on one 
of the lower limbs. The time was seven o’clock in 
the morning, the season early July, — the period of 
greatest greenness, freshness, and delicacy in the 
New England summer. 


II 


12 


HER SAILOR. 


The girl was putting in the hour that must elapse 
before her parents should see fit to descend from 
their chamber and partake of breakfast; and while 
she swung, her gaze wandered far out over the 
meadows toward the distant village twinkling and 
sparkling in the early morning sun. 

It was one of the loveliest spots in New Hamp- 
shire, but the river and the meadows and the village 
were an old story to the swinging girl. At present 
her thoughts were far from her home and her imme- 
diate surroundings ; and, closing her eyes, she sang 
more vivaciously than ever : 

“ ‘ He’s a gay and gallant rover, 

And I ’spect he’s false to me.’ ” 

No, he isn’t,” said a voice, so deep and so sud- 
den that she almost lost her balance, and her hazel 
eyes flew open with unwonted rapidity. 

“ Ah ! ” she said, drawing a long breath, and 
clinging closer to her shaggy green steed. 

While she had been singing the man had come 
down the dusty road to the old-fashioned house on 
the meadows, — a man of medium size, possessing a 
strongly built, powerful frame, a dark face burnt 
almost black from the sun, and a peculiar gravity 
of manner that proclaimed even more loudly than 


'TIS THE UNEXPECTED THAT OCCURS. 1 3 

his swarthy complexion some foreign admixture of 
blood. 

The girl in the tree knew who he was. This was 
the lover of whom she had been singing. He was 
the offspring of an adventurous Spanish maiden, of 
Valencia, who had run away from home to marry 
a love-stricken British sailor ; and the girl was 
American, or considered herself so, and her lover 
was considerably older than herself. When he 
removed his hat her eyes went unerringly to his 
one defect, the unmistakable bald spot in the centre 
of his thick crop of black hair. 

He delighted in startling her. He had crept 
softly through the gate and under the tree where 
she was singing ; and gazing demurely down at him 
as he stood with his head a few inches from her face, 
she remarked, mischievously, Mr. Owl, do you see 
the sun } Why did you not wait for the moon ? ” 

He reached up one hand and seized the trembling 
branch, then with the other gently attempted to draw 
the light head from its nest of green leaves. It 
would not come. What an exquisite, waggish, 
obstinate and altogether adorable little head it was. 
Yet it would not lie on his shoulder. 

‘‘Come down, chickadee,” he said, longingly. 

“ Come up, Mr. Owl,” she replied, teasingly. 


14 


HER SAILOR. 


She was daring him. Both his powerful arms 
went up to her perch ; and, lifting her down, he 
seated himself on the rustic bench underneath, and 
smoothed back the fluffy auburn hair from her white 
forehead. 

She sat on his knee with her red lips firmly 
pressed together. She would not open them. She 
was obdurate to his appeals for a word, a smile, a 
caress. 

Go back, then, you obstinate parrot,” he said ; 
and, irritably restoring her to her former position, he 
stretched himself against the back of the seat, and 
propped his head on his hand. 

She drew aside one of the willow’s pendant arms. 
** This — at seven o’clock in the morning ! I am 
shocked.” 

“ I have been up all night,” he replied, sleepily. 

‘‘ All night, — then you were after no good.” 

** No, no good,” he said, uncovering an eye to 
look at her. ‘‘ I was drawing out a new will, arrang- 
ing papers, etc., preparatory to — ” 

“ Suicide } ” she asked, in an interested way. 

‘*No, not suicide, matrimony. To-morrow morn- 
ing at six of the clock I shall cease to be a free 
man.” 

The girl looked him all over; she observed curi- 


^TIS THE UNEXPECTED THAT OCCURS. 1 5 

ously the effect of the little flecks of light playing 
from his dusty walking shoes up to his dark, smooth 
face with its heavy black moustache. Then she said, 
hastily, “ I shall not marry you to-morrow, Mr. Owl.” 

“ I did not ask you to. Miss Parrot,” he said, dis- 
agreeably. 

The girl resumed her swinging, her eyes this time 
fixed on the green meadows and the pretty village. 
For a long time she ignored the presence of her 
lover as completely as she did that of the huge black 
watch-dog loitering about the trunk of the tree in 
expectation of her descent and preparation of his 
breakfast. 

However, she was singing of him, although she 
did not address him, and as she sang the man’s 
gloomy expression changed to one of complacence, 
for he was again her theme. 

“ * I remember the black wharves and the slips. 

And the sea-tides tossing free, 

And Spanish sailors with bearded lips, 

And the beauty and mystery of the ships. 

And the magic of the sea.’ ” 

He knew what she was thinking of. Her busy 
young brain was occupied with its favourite problem, 
namely, himself. Ever since childhood she had been 


i6 


HER SAILOR. 


told that some mysterious link bound her to him ; 
that every particle of food she ate, every scrap of 
clothing she wore, came from him ; that, in short, 
she belonged to him, and, according to some secret 
and to her unknown arrangement, her marriage to 
him was a predetermined, foreordained thing ; that 
if she refused to submit, she might fall victim to 
some threatening evil, some shadowy calamity. And 
now he knew that he had puzzled her, for in the 
face of all this past instruction he had just made 
her think he was about to marry some other woman. 

■‘^What are you crying about, birdie.^” he asked, 
suddenly. 

Big tear-drops were quietly rolling down her 
cheeks and over her white dress ; but, without 
making any effort to wipe them away, she was 
singing more unconcernedly than ever. This time, 
however, a different tune and different words. 

“ He sighed her to death with his sighs so deep, 

He drugged her asleep with his bad black eyes, 

He tangled her up in his stories steep. 

And made her think of him marriagewise.’ ” 

The dickens ! What are you reciting, you little 
recluse ? ” he inquired, with pardonable brusqueness. 

“ Something I made up after reading in a book 


^TIS THE UNEXPECTED THAT OCCURS. 1 7 

about a deceitful man who inveigled a poor woman 
into marriage with him,” she replied, not meeting 
his eyes, and keeping her own fixed on a distant 
church steeple. 

What are you crying about, birdie ” he re- 
peated again, this time in the softest and gentlest 
of tones. 

‘‘ Am I crying ? ” she asked, innocently brushing 
a hand over her cheek. It must be for that poor 
creature who has to be your wife.” 

** Has to be, — she has promised me fifty times 
over ; ” and, forgetting his fatigue, he sprang up, and 
once more laid a hand on the swinging limb. 

The girl tried to start it. It would not move, and 
she exclaimed, imperiously, Please take your hand 
off my horse’s bridle.” 

The horse was still detained, and, refusing to meet 
the steady glance of his eyes, she gazed away out 
over the meadows, and sang, waggishly : 

“ I’ll not marry you, kind sir, she said, sir, she said, sir, she 
said, 

I’ll not marry you, kind sir, she said. 

Because you are too lordly.’ ” 

** Lordly,” he muttered, I am your slave. Look 
here,” and he cautiously lifted a damp curl from her 

/ 


i8 


HER SAILOR. 


forehead. ‘‘You are bathed in perspiration. So 
much for being a woman, for jumping at conclu- 
sions, and landing in a paroxysm of jealousy.” 

The girl was forced to call in her wandering gaze. 
He would stand there until doomsday if she did 
not ; and, with a provoking uplift of her light brows, 
she looked down into the two black penetrating eyes 
that pierced her face like lances. 

“ It was jealousy,” he said, with satisfaction. “ You 
thought for an instant that I was speaking of some 
other woman.” 

“ I was not jealous. I was glad.” 

“Yes, you were,” he said, doggedly, “and I am 
glad you were — and listen. Circumstances have 
arisen that make it necessary for me to give you 
the protection of my name. You trust me fully — ” 

“ Not that far ! ” she exclaimed, measuring off an 
inch on one of her pink fingers. 

He laughed, seized the finger, and carried it to his 
lips. “ I cannot explain, but we must be married at 
once. It will only be an empty ceremony. You are 
not ready yet to bow your wilful young neck under 
the yoke of matrimony.” 

“ I shall not have a phantom marriage,” she said, 
indignantly. “ Go away, you bad sea-dog.” 

“Then let it be a real one,” he said, eagerly. 


^TIS THE UNEXPECTED THAT OCCURS. 19 

‘‘Give up your will to me. Stop being a wilful 
spoiled child of a fianc^e^ and become a loving, sen- 
sible little wife. You can if you want to. There 
is nothing but the frail barrier of your will between 
us. Sometimes I think I would like to break it, 
but — ” suddenly pausing. “ What a fool I am ! 
One might as well rhapsodise to a marble statue as 
to you, icy, passionless child that you are. Perhaps 
when you get away from your present dead-and-alive 
surroundings — ” 

“ Perhaps what } ” she inquired, and her beautiful 
eyebrows again went into the air. 

“You will live with me, make a home for me, act 
sane instead of insane,” he said, shortly. 

“ What do you mean by getting away from my 
dead-and-alive surroundings } ” she inquired. 

“It means that after that ceremony to-morrow, 
which will make you feel neither maid, wife, nor 
widow, I want to take you away from here. You 
would like to travel } ” 

“To travel, — to see new places, new people.? I, 
who have not even been allowed to go to Boston ? ” 
and she stretched out the flowing white sleeves of 
her gown, like wings. “ What a question to ask me ! ” 

“ You could not travel,” he said, gloomily. “There 


were reasons. 


20 


HER SAILOR. 


“I won’t believe there were reasons till I know 
them,” she said, obstinately. ‘‘You have kept me 
shut up here. You, — not poor papa and mamma, 
— until I am so tired of everything, so sick of the 
same old roads, the same old people, the same girlg 
and boys, even the same sticks and stones. I began 
to think I was never to leave it. I was to stay here 
till I died, died, died.” 

t 

“ Well, now is your chance.” 

“ I don’t wish any chance this way. I wish to go 
alone.” 

He released the branch and threw himself down 
again on the seat. “You are going with me.” 

“ Am I going to England ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Am I going on the Merrimac ? Am I really to 
have a voyage } ” 

“Yes and yes. Do you think I would let you sail 
under any other man’s orders } ” 

She made no reply for a time, and seemed to be 
fully occupied in following the windings of the ser- 
pent-like Rubicon. 

“You need not pose as my wife, — that is, you need 
not occupy yourself with me. Every man in com- 
mand of a ship is accustomed to have solitary young 
persons travelling in his charge. I shall not impose 


^TIS THE UNEXPECTED THAT OCCURS.- 21 


my society upon you — not unless you request it,” 
he added, slowly. 

She had traced the Rubicon until it blended with 
the horizon, and now she looked into his resolved 
face. ‘‘ What do you propose to do with me when 
we reach England ? ” 

“ I propose to follow your wishes to the last 
degree,” he said, with weary gallantry. “If you 
wish to stay in England I will find some suitable 
place for you ; if you wish to come back with me — ” 
a short satisfied laugh finished the sentence. 

“You think I will come back with you,” she said, 
uneasily. 

“ I know you will,” he replied, with a conceit so 
marked that her quick temper was aroused in a 
flash. “ I shall not go one step with you,” she 
cried, petulantly. 

“ Why not ? ” he asked, coolly. 

“ Because you will make me — make me — ” She 
choked and stammered, and could not proceed. 

“ Make you what he said, gravely. ‘‘ I shall 
not force you to be my wife, if that is what you 
mean. I hope — I want you to consent to live 
with me sometime ; but I give you my word that, 
if you do not come willingly, you come not at 
all.” 


22 


HER SAILOR. 


** It isn’t that,” she cried, trying to stamp her foot, 
but only agitating it violently in the unresisting air. 
“ I know I will give in, I know I will go, I know you 
will make me mind you — you will make me glad to 
do it. Oh, I am so angry ! ” 

She was indeed angry, and the pink fingers were 
now raging among the willow leaves, and stripping 
them from their twigs. And you don’t love me,” 
she went on, furiously, ‘‘you only love having your 
own detestable way.” 

“So you think I don’t love you,” he said, medi- 
tatively. 

“ Of course you don’t. You never blush when you 
see me, you never stammer when you talk. You take 
everything for granted. Other men don’t act like 
that.” 

“ What do I want to blush for } I have done 
nothing to be ashamed of,” he said, doggedly, “ and 
why should I stammer } I have got a straight tongue 
in my head, and how do you know what other men 
do.?” 

“ Don’t I read books, — don’t I see them .? There’s 
one boy in Rubicon Meadows turns perfectly purple 
when he sees me. I don’t like having known you 
ever since I was a baby. I wish you would go away 
and let me alone,” and she sulkily executed a move- 


*TIS THE UNEXPECTED THAT OCCURS. 2% 

ment on the branch by which her back was turned 
on him. 

All right ; I have dangled about you long enough. 
Now I will give place to the Rubicon Meadows boys. 
You have played fast and loose with me about our 
engagement, and I don’t believe you ever intend to 
marry me. If you don’t call me back before I get 
to that second row of gooseberry-bushes you will 
never see me again.” 

<‘You don’t mean ‘never,’” said the girl, hotly, 
over her shoulder; “ you’re tired and cross, and you’ve 
lost your last remnant of temper. You’re in a pretty 
state of mind to come proposing to a girl.” 

“Good-bye, Nina,” he continued, calmly. “Tell 
your next admirer that I said you were a nice 
little girl, but you have a d — a dragon of a tem- 
per.” 

“ Good-bye, monster,” she called after him, as he 
took up his hat and strode away. “You’re a nice 
man, but you’re getting stout and middle-aged, and 
you’re a great deal older than I am, and the bald spot 
in the middle of your head is increasing, and I just 
hate you — I hate you.” 

Wincing under the dainty brutality of her personal 
allusions, the man clapped his hat on his head and 
quickened his steps. His gravity of manner was all 


24 


HER SAILOR. 


gone. No one in the world had power to stir him as 
this slip of a girl had. 

She watched him going, dashing the tears from 
her eyes as she watched. He had passed the rose- 
bush, the ugly rose-bush that never bore anything 
but worm-eaten roses. She wished that a tempest 
would come and tear it from its roots. He had 
stumbled over the big mossy stone by the well, the 
miserable stone on which every one tripped. She 
wished he would fall down and break a limb. He 
had passed the first row of gooseberry-bushes. Why 
did they not stretch out their thorny arms and tear 
his clothes ? ” 

Now he had reached the second row of gooseber- 
ries. Pirate ! ” she shrieked, wrathfully, after him. 

He would not reply to her. He was fumbling 
with the fastening of the gate, — the old-fashioned 
fastening that her father was always forgetting to 
have mended. She hoped that he might be detained 
there an hour. No, a gate would not stop him. He 
had placed a hand on it, and had vaulted over. Now 
he had disappeared. 

She would run to the gate to see the last of him, 
and she slipped down the tree-trunk like a lithe little 
cat. “That stupid fastening!” and she furiously 
rattled the gate. Then she climbed over. She would 


'TIS THE UNEXPECTED THAT OCCURS. 25 

follow him just for fun — not with the idea of 
appeasing him. 

For some seconds she trotted silently after him 
down the dusty road. Then she called gently, 

Esteban ! ” 

He did not turn. He had said the second row of 
gooseberry-bushes, and now he was crossing the 
Rubicon. And he always kept his word. 

“ Esteban,” she called, wildly, “ come back ! You 
have dropped your pocketbook.” 

Again he did not look around, but she saw his 
hand go up to his side. He must have heard her. 

She tried again. Esteban, I wish to tell you 
something — something important.” 

He would not turn. He did not turn until he 
heard a heavy splash in the river. 

‘*That tiresome girl,” — and, choking an exclama- 
tion, he strode back to the bridge. She had jumped 
into the river to annoy him. No, she had not gone 
herself, she had sent the big black dog who was 
swimming composedly about. The fool — he would 
do anything she told him. She was in hiding her- 
self, — he could see her brown head under one of 
the seats of the bridge. 

The tired man flung himself down on the opposite 
seat, and fixed his eyes on the head. How brown. 


26 


HER SAILOR. 


nay, how yellow it looked. He got up and peered 
down at it. It was not his little sweetheart curled 
up there. He was gazing at a bunch of yellow 
flowers. 

He turned hastily to the river. There was her 
cap floating on the water. He became sick and 
faint. There had been only one splash, yet where 
was she.? Every tender memory of his life, every 
ambition for the future, clustered around that brown 
head. He would go and get her. He would search 
in the grass of the river bank, he would — his head 
fell on his arm, and a strange, delicious forgetfulness 
crept over him. He was going to faint for the first 
time in his life. He struggled against it, first vio- 
lently, then feebly, then his head fell on his breast 
and he knew no more. 


CHAPTER II. 


schoolma’am and wife, but never a mother. 

While the sailor and the young girl were having 
their conversation in the garden, two people who 
were intensely interested in their movements were 
taking their breakfast in one of the back rooms of 
the plain, old-fashioned house. 

One of them was a faf, testy man, with large and 
prominent watery gray eyes, who was irritably chip- 
ping the top from an egg, and varying this occupa- 
tion by casting frequent and semi-displeased glances 
through the open window. Mr. Israel Danvers was 
master of this house, owner of the principal store in 
the village across the meadows, and husband of the 
woman with the large, cool, comfortable face, who 
sat opposite him pouring his coffee. 

**I wonder what that Fordyce is up to now }” he 
muttered, with a whole volley of glances outside. 

“I don’t know,” responded Mrs. Danvers, tran- 
quilly, ** but I imagine it’s something important. 
Otherwise he’d wait for lamplight.” 


27 


28 


HER SAILOR. 


** What do you mean by important ? ” 

** I mean marriage.” 

Mr. Danvers fretfully scattered his egg-shell on 
the table-cloth. “ Nina is too young to marry.” 

She is eighteen.” 

** She is too young, I say. She is nothing but a 
butterfly.” 

**She is certainly frivolous,” said Mrs. Danvers, 
with a judicial air. 

** Would you have her a suspicious old woman } ” 
retorted her husband. “ She’s got the b-best heart 
and the s-sweetest disposition, — she’s a fine girl,” 
he concluded, lamely. He could not be eloquent, 
but he felt deeply, and his prominent eyes watered 
in a sincere and affectionate manner as he went on 
with his breakfast. 

** Where’s my coffee ” he asked, presently. 

Mrs. Danvers started slightly, and passed him 
the forgotten cup. 

** You’ve half filled it with sugar,” he said, “ I 
guess you were dreaming when you poured it.” 

Again she said nothing, and quietly poured him 
another cup ; but he persisted, What was you 
thinking of, Melinda ? ” 

** I was pondering on the mysteries of the law of 
mutual selection, if you must know,” she said, calmly. 


SCHOOLMA ’AM AND WIFE. 2g 

He surveyed her suspiciously. She had been a 
school-teacher before she married him, and her edu- 
cation had been greatly superior to his own. Com- 
prehending his state of mind, she went on, kindly : 
‘‘With regard to Fordyce and Nina. He lands in a 
state where there are one hundred and fifty thousand 
more women than men. The most of those women 
have good eyes, ears, noses, fine heads of hair, yet he 
comes rushing over the border into New Hampshire.” 

“I’ll venture to say there isn’t another Nina in 
Massachusetts,” said the fat man. 

“ I agree with you there. She is unique.” 

“ Do you think she likes Fordyce well enough to 
marry him ? ” he asked, anxiously. 

Mrs. Danvers became thoughtful, until an impa- 
tient movement from her husband forced an opinion 
from her. “ I don’t know, Israel. I guess she likes 
him better than she pretends to, and you’ve no occa- 
sion to worry about her marrying him. Wild horses 
wouldn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to 
do ; but I don’t know all her mind about Fordyce. 
She understands me better than I understand 
her.” 

Surprised at this unlooked-for admission, he said, 
agreeably, “She’s a clever little coot.” 

“ Clever, — she’s the smartest girl I ever saw. 


30 


HER SAILOR. 


She’s too smart. I’m afraid Fordyce will have 
trouble with her.” 

Clever, how clever ? ” interposed Mr. Danvers, 
up in arms for his favourite. “ You don’t mean to 
say she’s sneaky ” 

‘"No, not sneaky,” said Mrs. Danvers, in deep 
thought; “not sneaky, but shy and nervous, and 
pretending she’s got plenty of coolness when she 
hasn’t, and more one for getting her way secretly 
than openly. And she’s full of tricks and moods 
and quirks of all kinds. You don’t understand her, 
Israel.” 

Mr. Danvers did not know whether to be gratified 
or annoyed by his wife’s expansive state of mind. 
She had never before spoken just so freely of their 
adopted daughter. “ I don’t try to understand her,” 
he said, doubtfully. “ I just take her as she is.” 

“ Fordyce don’t. He wants to know every thought 
in her mind,” proceeded Mrs. Danvers, “and thinks 
he knows them, too, but sometimes he’s too sure.” 

“ He’s too short with her, too short,” observed 
Mr. Danvers, pettishly. “He ought to take into 
account that she’s got a will of her own.” 

“ He’s a primitive man ; he’d kill any one that 
took her away from him. You see he’s got nothing 
but her.” 


SCHOOLMA *AM AND WIFE. 


31 


Mr. Danvers was silent. He did not know what 
she meant by a primitive man. 

“ He could step right out into the woods and live 
with savages,” explained Mrs. Danvers ; and if he 
wanted a woman he’d knock her down with his club 
and carry her off to his cave with the best of them.” 

Mr. Danvers treated her to an exhibition of open- 
mouthed astonishment and disapproval. ‘‘Melinda, 
are you crazy to talk of such goings-on .? ” 

“ Men don’t do such things nowadays,” she said, 
soothingly, “ but there’s a heap of wild nature in a 
good many of us. I guess you’d like to turn Fordyce 
out this very minute.” 

“ You bet your life I would,” said the fat man, with 
energy, and without premeditation. “I’d send him 
flying down that road. He’s too old for Nina. Let 
her marry one of the boys around here.” 

“ Do you know what she calls the Rubicon 
Meadows boys.?” asked Mrs. Danvers, dryly. 

“ No, but I know she don’t mean a third of what 
she says.” 

“ Giggling colts, Israel. Colts, just think of it. 
You see Fordyce has a kind of manner of knowing 
everything, and he’s out in the world. Then he 
comes stealing in her life like a mystery, and she 
likes that. I guess we’ve got to let him have her. 


32 


HER SAILOR. 


We could’nt stop him, anyway. He’ll tame her and 
she’ll do him good. I expect he’s mortal blue at 
times.” 

Mr. Danvers relapsed into sullenness, tinged with 
vindictiveness. He understood his wife well enough 
to know that the burden of her talk was the duty of 
resignation. “You’ve always been hard on that girl,” 
he said, irascibly. 

“ Hard on her, Israel ! Seventeen years I’ve had 
her, and there isn’t a soul in Rubicon Meadows be- 
sides, you that guesses she isn’t our own child. How’s 
that for being hard on her ? ” 

Melinda’s eyes were sparkling. She looked ten 
years younger than she had before their conversa- 
tion began, and he abruptly drifted into memories of 
bygone days. So far back did he go that it was some 
time before he murmured, absently : “ Howsomever, 
you’ve been well paid for it.” 

“Paid for it,” she repeated, with asperity, “there 
are some things money can’t pay for.” 

This was a statement he could not deny, yet in 
some indefinable and inexplicable way he felt that 
she had been slightly lacking in her duty to the 
lovable butterfly outside. Melinda did not admire 
the pretty creature as he did ; and at this very in- 
stant her unusual outspokenness and animation arose 


SCIIOOLMA'AM AND WIFE. 33 

from her acute suspicion that their vivacious charge 
was about spreading her wings for flight. 

She was a good woman, though, this wife of his, 
and she was only a trifle queer. However, every- 
body seemed queer but himself, and he sank into 
bitter and resigned reflection, and muttered, almost 
inaudibly, After all said and done, we’ve got to 
take folks after the pattern they’re made, and not as 
we’d make ’em over.” 

Mrs. Danvers saw that the tide was turning. 
“ Israel,” she said, solemnly shaking her head at him, 

no one will ever know what I’ve gone through with 
that child. When she was laid in my arms a little, 
motherless babe, and her tiny fingers curled around 
mine, my heart went out to her. She’s got it yet, 
but she’s been greatly provoking, and you’ve made 
too much of her, Israel, you know you have.” 

‘‘I’ll not deny I’ve favoured her some,” he said, 
gruffly. 

<< I’ve never spoken about it before,” she replied, 
nervously, ** and I’ll never say it again ; but I’ve been 
jealous of that girl, Israel, real jealous ; and yet, with 
it all, you’ll not miss her as much when she goes as 
I will. A man gets over things. A woman broods.” 

Mr. Danvers weakly toyed with a morsel of bread. 

“ I’ve got some of the mother spirit,” his wife went 


34 


HER SAILOR. 


on, with tears in her eyes. ** Enough of it, thank 
the Lord, to make me sorry to have her go. WeVe 
got to be lonely, Israel, real lonely, after she leaves, 
and I’m glad to have this talk first.” 

Mr. Danvers was embarrassed, exceedingly embar- 
rassed ; and for the first time in his life was willing 
to acknowledge that possibly he might have done 
wrong, possibly he might have indulged too much the 
pink and white gipsy in the muslin frock outside. 
However, it was not befitting his position as head of 
the household to eat too large a piece of humble pie 
at one time, so he said, protestingly, As for jeal- 
ousy, how you •women run on. You’re just like 
wildfire. Now I’ve liked that little girl just as if she 
was my own, but not like you, Melinda. A man’s 
wife is different. I wonder you speak of such a 
thing, and I a deacon in the church.” 

“ I wasn’t speaking of anything but your acting 
like a foolish father,” she said, indignantly. 
course you’d never think of comparing Nina to me. 
She’s only a baby, and whatever happens, Israel 
Danvers, I hope you’ll remember I am your wedded 
wife. I know I’m getting old — ” 

She broke down, and tears finished the sentence. 

Mr. Danvers was aghast. He had not seen her 
cry for twenty years, — not since her mother died. 


SCHOOLMA 'AM AND WIFE. 


35 


Getting up with difficulty, he waddled to her end of 
the table, and, gingerly tapping her shoulder, ejacu- 
lated, So, so, there, — so, so.” 

Mrs. Danvers wiped her eyes and gave him a 
slight push. “I’m not a cow, Israel, and go back 
to your seat. There’s some one coming.” 

Nina was quietly slipping in through the window. 
Approaching the foot of the table, she took Mr. 
Danvers’s bald head in her embrace and kissed him 
sweetly and fervently. Then, nearing the head of 
the table, she pecked at Mrs. Danvers’s cheek in an 
affectionate but perfunctory manner. 

“ Here’s your mush,” said Mrs. Danvers, uncover- 
ing a small bowl. “ Israel, pass the cream ; where’s 
Captain Fordyce, Nina.?” 

“ I left him on the bridge. I think he must be 
waiting for the moon,” she said, seriously. 

Her lips were pale, and there was a nervous ex- 
pression about her eyes, and Mrs. Danvers said to 
herself, “ They’ve had a quarrel.” 

“Ever see him by daylight before, pussy.?” 
asked Mr. Danvers. 

“ No, daddy.” 

“ Must look kind of queer.” 

“ He looks older,” said the girl, with her spoon 
poised over her mush. She had fallen into a reverie 


36 


HER SAILOR. 


and was gazing fixedly out the window. After a 
time she roused herself and said : “He had a faint 
turn on the bridge.” 

“He — faint said Mrs. Danvers, incredulously. 

“ Yes,” said Nina, with a queer look, and dropping 
her eyes. “He has been working hard and not eat- 
ing much, and the sun shone on his head and made 
him dizzy. I thought, mamma, you might give him 
some medicine.” 

“I’ll give him some if he’ll take it,” said Mrs. 
Danvers, grimly, “but he’s not one to be coddled. 
What is he coming in the daytime for.? Does he 
want anything particular .? ” 

Nina turned quickly and gave her an owlish stare, 
— a stare so sudden that Mrs. Danvers had not time 
to avert her own gray eyes shining with so glad a 
light. 

“ Would you let him marry me right away, mamma, 
if he wanted to .? ” 

“Well,” hesitated Mrs. Danvers, “your case isn’t 
like others. Of course your engagement has been 
standing a good while.” 

“ Does he want to marry you right off .? ” asked 
Mr. Danvers, sharply. 

“Yes, dear daddy,” said the girl, softly, “but you 
won’t let me go, will you .? ” 


SCHOOLMA ^AM AND WIFE. 


37 


Mr. Danvers tried to speak, but only uttered a low, 
confused rumble like that of a helpless animal. He 
could do nothing, and the girl turned to her adopted 
mother. Her curiously expectant glance was not met. 
Mrs. Danvers’s head was bent over her plate. There 
was no protest there. The marriage must take place. 

Nina, having fully satisfied herself on this point, 
reached out her hand for the sugar-bowl; and, 
carefully dusting her oatmeal, poured cream on it, 
and proceeded to take her breakfast in silence and 
composure. 

<‘Why, there’s Captain Fordyce,” said Mrs. Dan- 
vers, suddenly. ‘‘ Come in, come in,” she went on, 
addressing the sailor, who stood by the low, open 
window. ‘‘ You must want some breakfast.” 

They were all staring at him, but he looked his 
usual self, and, with a brief salutation to his host 
and hostess, he entered the room and seated himself 
at the table. 

‘‘ Have some hot drink,” said Mrs. Danvers, pass- 
ing him a cup. ** It will make you feel better.” 

His gaze went suspiciously to Nina, and the faint- 
est and most evanescent of blushes passed over his 
dark face. “ I had no dinner yesterday,” he said, 
gruffly, '‘and the racket on the wharf was deafen- 
ing.” 


38 


HER SAILOR. 


‘‘Did you have a prosperous voyage from Eng- 
land ? ” asked Mrs. Danvers, amiably. 

“Yes.” 

“ And an agreeable company of passengers } ” 

“Fair, — I didn’t see much of them.” 

“ Were there any nice, nice girls on board ? ” 
lisped Nina, in her infantine fashion. 

“ Plenty,” he said unexpectedly, fixing her with an 
indulgent stare. 

She did not address him again during the meal, 
although she listened attentively to every one of the 
curt sentences with which he favoured her parents. 
He was always grave, almost severe with them. 
Why was he not with them, with the rest of the 
world, as he was with her } Why at her slightest 
word did he lose his air of command, soften his tone, 
and adjust himself to any mood she happened to 
be in .? Was it only because he loved her, or was 
there some other reason ? It was certainly very 
puzzling, and the man across the table, who was 
intently following her meditations, smiled to him- 
self, as he heard the perturbed little sigh with which 
she always concluded them. 

Mr. Danvers scarcely spoke, and the others rarely 
addressed him ; for they plainly felt that the atmos- 
phere about him was somewhat electrical. 


SCHOOLMA ^AM AND WIFE. 39 

‘‘Poor old fatty,” soliloquised Captain Fordyce, 
“he’s blue to think of losing his little playmate. 
I’m sorry for him,” and he gazed approvingly at the 
stout man. “ Madam there loves Nina because she 
is a dressed-up doll, representing duty and dollars ; 
and he favoured his hostess with a sardonic glance. 
“ Schoolma’am and wife, but never a mother. Time 
my little wench was out of this.” 

Mr. Danvers finished his breakfast, then rose in 
sulky silence. While Nina ran to get his hat and 
cane, he addressed Captain Fordyce : 

“ So you want to steal our child } ” 

“ I do.” 

The fat man choked back some emotion. “ Is she 
willing to go ” 

“Yes.” 

Mr. Danvers brought his plump fist down on the 
table with noiseless emphasis, and threw a defiant 
glance at his wife. “Well, mark this, she’s always 
got a home here if anything befalls you. And don’t 
ever force the truth on her. I wouldn’t for a 
thousand dollars have her know she isn’t our 
child.” 

“And I wouldn’t for a thousand more,” said 
Captain Fordyce, coolly. 

“ Would not this be a good time to inform her of 


40 


HER SAILOR. 


the true state of affairs ? ” interposed Mrs. Danvers. 
** Is not truth always better than error ? ” 

Captain Fordyce frowned at her, Mr. Danvers 
ejaculated, “ Hold your tongue, Melinda ; ” but noth- 
ing further could be said, for at that instant Nina 
came gliding back. 

“ Here is your hat, daddy dear,” then, tucking her 
hand under his arm, she left the room with him. 

Mrs. Danvers followed the two with a peculiar 
glance, and Captain Fordyce, seeing it, smiled. 

“ Are her traps in order for travelling ” he asked. 

“Yes,” she replied, laconically. 

“ I will take her away to-morrow.” 

She looked slightly ashamed, and fell into a silence 
that lasted until Nina returned, when she wandered 
away into the kitchen. 

The girl had been standing a long time at the gate 
watching the sorrowful lines of the substantial figure 
plodding across the meadows. Her face was flushed 
and disturbed ; and, scarcely knowing what she did, 
she seated herself at the table and made a blind 
onslaught on a loaf of bread. 

“ Here, give me that knife, you will cut yourself,” 
said Captain Fordyce. He laid a thin slice on her 
plate, then, in a state of utter beatification, for he 
had had his own way in every particular during a 


SCHOOLMA 'AM AND WIFE. 


41 


short conversation they had had on the bridge, he 
sat watching her eat it. 

‘‘Three days from now you will be having your 
breakfast on the MerrimaCy' he said, softly. 

Nina made a wry face and tried to bury her face 
in her coffee-cup. He laughed, and, having finished 
his breakfast, got up and strolled about the room, 
looking at the pictures hung on the walls. 

A quarter of an hour later Nina was alone in the 
hall with him. He had exchanged a calm good-bye 
with Mrs. Danvers, after having promised to return 
to dinner. ' His* leave-taking with his fiancee prom- 
ised to be more lengthy. 

“ Oh, do make haste,” she said, inhospitably hand- 
ing him his hat. “I have my canaries to do, and 
the dog and cat to feed, and ever so many things 
beside.” 

“Tell me again that you are sorry for being 
naughty,” he said, gently, “for throwing your cap 
in the water, and hiding in the rushes.” 

“ Tm sorry I was sorry,” she said, stoutly ; but at 
the same time, lest she should hurt his feelings, she 
gave his fingers a gentle, a very gentle pressure. 

“ You angel,” he said, not rapturously nor pas- 
sionately, but rather as if he were stating a very 
commonplace and threadbare fact. 


42 


HER SAILOR. 


She dropped his fingers as suddenly as if they had 
turned to red-hot metal in her grasp, and turned her 
head very far away from him. 

“And you will find time among your multitu- 
dinous occupations to help your mamma pack,” he 
went on. 

“I don’t think I will go,” she said, feebly. “I 
think I am going to change my mind again.” 

“ All right,” he said, taking out his watch. “ I 
will give you a minute. Shall I go or stay.^^ You 
must make up your mind decidedly before to-morrow. 
There must be no fooling with sacred things.” 

She roguishly bent her face over the watch. 

“Time’s up,” he said ; “good-bye.” 

With a wilful shrug of her shoulders she took the 
watch in her hand. “ Let me put it back.” 

He stood patiently while she restored it to its 
place, and insinuated her thumb and finger in 
another pocket. “ What’s this } ” she observed, 
drawing out a slip of newspaper. 

“ Give it to me,” he said, trying to take it from her. 

But she was too quick for him, and darting to the 
staircase read aloud the headings of the slip she 
held in her hand. “ Boston Dustman Refused 
Seventeen Times by His Lady-love, Who Was 
a Rag-picker. Upon the Occasion of His Eight- 


SCHOOLMA ^AM AND IVIFE. 43 

eenth Refusal Slapped Her in the Face, Where- 
upon She Promptly Accepted Him.” 

Horrid man ! I would have slapped back ! ” 
exclaimed Nina, indignantly. 

Captain Fordyce was grinning broadly. ** Here, — 
give me that,” and he restored it to his pocket. ‘‘ It 
brought me luck.” 

Luck with me ? ” she cried. 

“Yes, birdie.” 

She was about to dart away, but he held her gently 
by the arm, and, stroking his moustache in a medita- 
tive way, said : “ One day, years ago, I remember 
seeing you dragged out of bed at midnight — a rosy, 
tumbled heap — to say ^How d’ye do’ to a rough 
young sailor, whom you kissed and were not at all 
afraid of. That was our first merry meeting, and 
every one since has been flavoured, seasoned, sancti- 
fied, what you will, by the same charming salute. 
You are not going to cut me off this time as you did 
this morning?” and he brought his black, teasing 
eyes close to her face. 

“ I made up for it on the bridge,” she said, hastily. 
“Let me go, you — you Spaniard.” 

This was her choicest word of abuse, but it did 
not take effect now. “No, you didn’t,” he said, 
obstinately. “ Now, Nina ! ” 


44 


HER SAILOR. 


The faint, the very faint tone of command in his 
voice warned her that this was one of the occasions 
on which she must not refuse him. But she drew 
her hand across her lips afterward, and murmured 
something about salt to her eyeballs. 

He looked down at the orbs in question. Those 
are bright, happy eyes, child. You don’t mean one- 
half you say ; ” and with this impeachment on her 
veracity he took his leave, and hurried away in the 
direction of the village. 


CHAPTER III. 


SHE WHO FIGHTS AND RUNS AWAY. 

At the foot of the Danvers garden was a grassy 
field, and through the field ran a laughing, purling 
brook hurrying to join the sinuous Rubicon winding 
through the meadow beyond. 

The brook was a favourite resort of Nina’s ; but 
now, at eleven o’clock at night, she was supposed to 
be in bed ; and, deprived of the cheering light of her 
presence, her lover rambled alone on the grassy bank. 
No, not her lover, — her new-made husband. There 
had been a slight change in his plans. Thanks to 
his business activity and habits of despatch, he had 
so hurried these slow country people that he had 
been able to have his marriage ceremony performed 
on the afternoon of his day of arrival, instead of 
postponing it until the following morning. 

Now as he walked to and fro smoking and talking 
to himself, he chuckled delightedly. “That old 
white-haired magistrate looked scared. He will not 
get over his fright for a week. However, Nina won’t 
45 


46 


HER SAILOR. 


have to get up so early in the morning. We can 
take a later train to the city. Poor little thing, — 
what the dickens am I pitying her for.!*” and he 
paused, impatiently. She’s safely married and pro- 
vided for. She’s glad to get out of this — never in 
the world would have settled down here attached to 
one of these lumbering youths. Good enough fel- 
lows,” he went on, thoughtfully, better than I am ; 
but she’s too fine for them, too high-strung. No 
material for a farmer’s wife there. Now we’ll see 
her character unfold. I must be patient with her.” 

He stopped short and stared up at the sky. He 
had one instant of an exquisite and sympathetic 
comprehension of the faults and beauties in the 
character of a fellow creature. Then his exalted 
expression faded, and he shook himself, impatiently. 
“ Pshaw ! what a black expanse ! A jetty pincushion 
stuck full of pins. Darkest night this month. So 
I am married,” and he resumed his walk. Where 
are my complex emotions .•* I am only glad I’ve got 
her to have and to hold and to win for my wife. 
Curious little fox, pretending to be frightened, and 
giving me the cold shoulder all day. She will come 
around in time, and make a home for me. She’s the 
cutest thing in the world, as these Americans say. 
She will keep me amused,” and he laughed aloud, 


SHE WHO FIGHTS AND RUNS AWAY. 


47 

and waved his cigar like a small red torch in the 
darkness. 

‘‘ I must sell some of that railway stock,” he went 
on, presently, “ our expenses will increase now ; for 
once out of her nest my bird will want new feathers,” 
and his mind wandered off to practical and financial 
affairs. 

In the midst of his hurry through the day, he had 
found time to take a nap, and his sleepiness and faint- 
ness of the morning had passed away. Occasionally 
he glanced in the direction of the little black village 
gone sound asleep, where was his inn for the night ; 
but he was not ready to go to it yet. The soft even- 
ing air allured him, and, with the luxurious apprecia- 
tion of an alternate seafarer and dweller in cities, he 
revelled in the seldom enjoyed pleasure of a country 
night with its subdued and muffled noises. 

‘‘Jove! I like those land smells,” he muttered, 
“earthy and sweet they are and unlike the sea, 
though for all time give me the dash of briny. 
And the noises — let me count them,” and he 
paused again and elevated one ear more than the 
other. “ Distant dogs barking — when do the brutes 
sleep 1 Cow bawling — her calf has been taken away ; 
owl tooting like a fog-horn. Brats of birds stirring 
in their nests, one fellow crowding the other — just 


48 


HER SAILOR. 


heard them swear in twitter,” and he gazed into the 
sombre mass of an elm above him. “ Engine shriek- 
ing — fast train for Boston. Footsteps pattering — 
hello ! from Danvers’s house, too. Naughty Bridget 
— didn’t Nina say the grocer had a weakness for her 
fried cakes } But surely they don’t walk and talk as 
late as this from that exemplary household. How- 
ever, I’ll not spoil her fun,” and he moved back in 
the shelter of the tree. 

A minute later he resumed his place by the step- 
ping-stones. Dark as it ’was, he knew that slender, 
white figure emerging from the embrace of night. 

Nina ! ” he ejaculated, in a fond and foolish tone, 
my little girl — coming for me ! ” 

She gave a guilty start and drew back. 

What are you carrying ” he went on ; and, 
approaching her, he took a small black bag from 
her hand. 

My — my things for the night,” she stammered. 

‘‘ Are you walking in your sleep he asked, in a 
curious tone. 

N-no ; I am going to spend the night with 
a friend, — a girl I know. I am very fond of her. 
She lives across the meadows.” 

‘‘ Indeed ; shall I see you there before I go to the 
village } ” and he politely threw away his cigar. 


SHE WHO FIGHTS AND RUNS AWAY. 


49 


Nina hesitated. This was not quite what she 
wished, and he went on : Perhaps you do not care 
for me to see where you are going ” 

‘‘ No, I don’t,” she said, in a low voice. 

‘‘ I suppose you are planning to come back in the 
morning and take the train with me he asked, in 
a livelier way. 

« Perhaps I had better not,” she said, evasively. 

“ By Jove ! I believe she’s running away,” he 
inwardly exclaimed. Outwardly he was cool. ‘‘ Did 
you tell Mrs. Danvers about your ardent wish to see 
this friend } ” 

** No,” she murmured. 

You must think a heap of her to be rambling off 
this time of night to see her,” he went on. Pray 
do not let me detain you.” 

The girl swung her foot to and fro as if feeling for 
the first stepping-stone ; and yet she probably knew 
perfectly well where it was. Then she said, with 
a queer catch in her voice, “It looks blacker over 
there.” 

She had been brought up in the country. She was 
no more afraid of the darkness than he was, but he 
said, agreeably, “ You want me to go with you } ” 

“ N-not all the way. I don’t want you to see 
where I go.” 


50 


HER SAILOR. 


There was something peculiar in her voice, some- 
thing peculiar in her manner, and the puzzled man 
knit his brows. There had not been quite enough 
consternation when she discovered him. She was 
acting, but acting badly. He would edge up on the 
stage a bit, and he went nearer and peered at her 
downcast head. 

What he saw decided and enlightened him ; for 
he suddenly choked back a laugh, and retreated into 
the deeper gloom of the tree, from whence a voice 
presently issued in pretended severity : “ Nina, why 
did you marry me to-day } ” 

Now the girl was happy. She left the stepping- 
stone on which she had placed both her small feet 
and resumed her footing on dry ground. I mar- 
ried you because I promised to do so. You have 
been very good to me ever since I was a little child. 
I am grateful to you, and if there is any profit to you 
in my marriage, I am willing for you to have it.” 

“ Profit,” he muttered to himself. ‘‘ Good heavens. 
Miss Parrot, what do you mean ^ This is something 
you have learned by rote.” However, he kept his won- 
der to himself, and said aloud and still more sternly : 
‘‘ Having married me, why are you running away } ” 
** I am running away because I am not pleased 
with you,” she said, bravely and glibly. “You treat 


SHE WHO FIGHTS AND RUNS AWAY. 51 

me as if I were a baby. I am grown up, and . am 
entitled to some respect and consideration, particu- 
larly now that I am your wife. I wish to be con- 
sulted about things. When I get on board the 
Merrimac I do not wish to be told I must do this 
and I must do that.’' 

He did not speak for a minute. She supposed 
that he was trying to subdue his wrath, but he was 
going over a few sentences to himself in a puzzled 
fashion. What is that fellow’s name, — J err old, is 
it } — says, ‘ While they’re maids they’re mild as milk. 
Make ’em wives and they set their backs against 
their marriage certificates and defy you.’ ” 

am no better than a puppet,” said the girl 
excitedly. 

Puppet, that’s good ! ” said the seafaring man, 
softly, “ and glory to Cupid, she’s getting stirred up. 
I dare say I do boss her.” 

“You have stated your grievance,” he said, in a 
low growl ; “ what redress do you ask ? ” 

“ I want you to — to let me do as I like about — 
about going or staying with you.” 

“You want to frighten me out of my senses to 
keep me from making love to you, little witch,” he 
reflected, “ and you’re using this girl as a screen. I 
see,” he said aloud, “your present most earnest 


52 


HER SAILOR. 


desire is to go and visit this girl you love so much, 
and let me go away without you. Then after I have 
had a trip to England and back, which will give me 
ample time to meditate on the folly of my ways, I 
may come and get you.” 

She did not reply for a minute. Seems to be 
having some difficulty with her organs of speech,” 
soliloquised the man behind the tree. “Just for con- 
trariness, ril check. Have your own way,” he said, 
with well-assumed surliness. “ I wouldn’t take you 
with me to-morrow for a thousand pounds.” 

The girl was terrified. She had gone too far. 
She had roused the ugly, black, Spanish temper of 
whose existence she was well aware, but of which 
she had never seen an exhibition. “ Esteban,” she 
said, piteously, “ I don’t want to hurt your feelings ; 
if you would only let me do a little more as I 
want to.” 

“ Why didn’t you tell me all this before ” he 
uttered, in a sepulchral voice ; “ why did you wait to 
blight our marriage day ” 

“I — I couldn’t get courage,” she stammered. 
“I — I am a little frightened of you.” 

The night air was so clear that he could hear 
every one of her fluttering whispers, yet he pre- 
tended that he had not caught them, and launched 


SHE WHO FIGHTS AND RUNS AWAY. 53 

into a raging philippic against the ingratitude of 
women in general. 

It accomplished her confusion. She had plainly 
overstepped the limit set around his forbearance, and, 
dropping her bag on the grass, she put both hands up 
to her eyes. 

She was crying — the darling — and his heart was 
bleeding for her, but he wished to find out the par- 
ticulars of this night excursion. You have deceived 
me, — you pretended that you would go away with 
me in the morning.” 

‘‘ So I am going,” she cried, desperately. ‘‘ I am 
only in fun.” 

He paused in his ravings. ‘‘ In fun — ” 

‘‘ Yes ; I am only making believe to go to see that 
girl. I watched you come down here. I am not 
going to leave you, ’Steban, really. Look in that bag 
— there isn’t even a toothbrush in it. It’s only 
stuffed with paper. I am sick of this quiet place. 
I will be good if you will take me to-morrow.” 

‘‘ Never — false, deceitful one ! ” he began, in tones 
made hollow by a hand placed over his mouth, but 
his tones were too hollow, too mournful. He was 
not a first-class actor, and she was too sharp to be 
deceived any longer. 

She dropped her hands from her eyes. She could 


54 


HER SAILOR. 


not see him, but she could plainly hear that, being 
now discovered, he had given way to his torments of 
suppressed laughter. 

“You mean, mean thing!” she cried, wrathfully; 
then she wheeled suddenly, threw the bag in his 
direction, and rushed off through the darkness. 

He laughed till the tears came to his eyes, then he 
groped after the bag. It was as she had said, stuffed 
with paper. “ Poor little soul,” he muttered, “ I 
would have comforted her if she had stayed. She 
wanted to show me that she was going to take com- 
mand in this matrimonial alliance, but she didn’t 
come out well from her first battle. Deserted her 
colours and ran.” 


CHAPTER IV. 


RUBICON MEADOWS ARE LEFT BEHIND. 

With a face as pale as the handkerchief pressed 
against it, Nina stood gazing into a corner of the 
waiting-room in the diminutive railway station of 
Rubicon Meadows. 

Mrs. Danvers had broken down. She was in a 
pitiable state of confusion, and Mr. Danvers, with 
his round face in a snarl, was trying to comfort her. 

“ What hash these women are made of ! ” grum- 
bled Captain Fordyce to himself. “She wanted 
Nina to go, she wants her to stay, she will break 
her heart in earnest if I leave her, and break it in 
appearance if I take her. Come, Nina, let us go 
out to the platform, the train will be here in three 
minutes.” 

“’Steban, I can’t leave her — I oughtn’t to,” 
murmured the girl, miserably. 

“All right — stay, then.” 

“ Mamma, mamma, I will stay with you,” and she 
ran and threw her arms around the weeping figure. 

55 


56 


HER SAILOR. 


Captain Fordyce stared at them from under his 
black brows. An instantaneous and almost imper- 
ceptible change passed over the sorrowing woman. 
He knew it from the movement of her shoulder- 
blades. 

Nina felt it, was confused, and looked around 
at him. 

“ Good-bye,” he said, calmly ; ** wire me if you 
change your mind before to-morrow noon. If not, 
I will run up and get you next trip.” 

Mrs. Danvers’s sobs ceased. She had been crying 
at intervals all the morning. This was the climax, 
“ Nina,” she said, in a muffled voice. 

The girl put her ear to her lips. Captain Fordyce 
could not hear what was said, but he could make a 
shrewd guess. The duty of a wife was to leave 
father and mother, and cleave to her husband. 

Mr. Danvers whirled his ponderous form around, 
and, winking more vigorously than ever, stepped to 
the doorway. This was final. Up to the last he 
had hoped that his wife’s grief would continue, that 
Captain Fordyce would relent and would leave them 
their child. They were to lose her. He must go 
home and face that empty chair. 

Mrs. Danvers had straightened herself up, and 
was pulling down her veil. Captain Fordyce was 


RUBICON MEADOWS ARE LEFT BEHIND. 57 

whisking Nina out to the train bearing down upon 
Rubicon Meadows with a rush and a roar befitting a 
monster that would steal children from the very arms 
of their parents. 

Mrs. Danvers had ceased crying now, but Nina 
had taken up the dismal performance, and was 
blindly waving farewells from the window of a 
parlour-car. Now they were gone ; that chapter 
in life’s story was finished, — a lively, eventful chap- 
ter, — and now began one unblessed by youth, mis- 
chief, and beauty. Mr. Danvers was getting old, 
and, placing himself by the side of his wife, he 
plodded wearily homeward. Perhaps if he had mar- 
ried some other woman he might have had children 
of his own, — but what diabolical thoughts were 
these crowding his head, and he a deacon in the 
church; with an inward and horrified shudder he 
offered his arm to his wife. 

She accepted the unusual attention. Her livelier 
feminine imagination pictured to her a new quiet 
and a new restfulness and happiness — yes, happi- 
ness — that were about to settle on them. It was 
all for the best, — she could say it through her 
tears, — although how they should miss that little 
witch ! 

Captain Fordyce sat quietly beside the witch. 


58 


HER SAILOR. 


Her parents had been snatched from her. She was 
turning her bereaved gaze to the town. The shops, 
the houses, the churches, sprang past. She had 
only the meadows left, the beautiful Rubicon mead- 
ows, with their languidly flowing river, — the place 
where her little feet had roamed since childhood, and 
now it, too, was gone. She was out in the open 
country away from the scenes of her childhood. 
She was fairly launched on the journey of life. Was 
it to be a happy one ^ Where would it end } When 
would she come back Perhaps never. 

She must be torn to pieces with nervous terror, 
such terror as probably agitated trembling brides for 
the first few hours after leaving the parental roof, 
and in deep and intense sympathy her husband 
gently touched the tiny gloved hand lying on her 
lap. 

He wished to see her whole face, not a section of 
pink cheek. 

She moved her head abruptly, and presented to 
him not tears and dejection, but a pouting mouth 
and a frowning brow. Her agitation was gone. She 
was worrying over some other matter. 

What’s wrong with you ” he asked, wonder- 
ingly. 

She favoured him with one of her indignant stares. 


RUBICON MEADOWS ARE LEFT BEHIND. 59 

‘‘That woman is not my mother, why don’t you 
tell me who she is ? ” 

Captain Fordyce was aghast. Then he looked 
over his shoulder. He was afraid the man behind 
had heard her low,’ wrathful tones. Where in the 
name of all that was wonderful had she picked up 
this information ? He opened his mouth to speak, 
then closed it feebly ; he must have time to think 
over this statement, and make up his mind what to 
answer her ; so with an incoherent excuse he left 
her, and hurried in the direction of the smoking-car. 

Before they reached Boston he was again beside 
her ; but he made no effort at conversation, and as if 
she had forgotten her remark to him, she occupied 
herself by an animated observation of everything 
about her. She was intensely interested, intensely 
pleased, and watched his every movement like a 
delighted little cat. 

“ Are we going to stop, already ? ” she exclaimed, 
when their carriage, after lumbering through street 
after street, pulled up in front of a hotel. 

He drew out his watch. “I can give you two 
hours before the Merrimac claims me, but you had 
better have something to eat first.” 

“ Can’t I have it here in this carriage } ” 

“ No, you cannot,” he said, decidedly. “ I am not 


6o 


HER SAILOR. 


going to drive through the streets with a lunching 
young lady.” 

“Then let us make haste,” she said, meekly 
descending to the pavement. 

An hour later, while they were driving to and fro, 
and he was pointing out objects of special historic 
interest in the prim old Puritan city, he interposed 
a question, “ How does it all impress you } ” 

She shook her fluffy head. “ Oh, delicious con- 
fusion, and noise, plenty of noise ! Everything is 
mixed up to me. I can’t seem to separate things. 
You show me one house, and I look at it, but it 
melts at once into others. Everything is so close. 
How can city people think with all these things to 
look at ? Just see that funny cart ! Why, there are 
real reindeer, like those I once saw in a circus.” 

In the utmost satisfaction he contemplated her 
gleeful, laughing face. “ Now,” he said, regretfully, 
“I must take you back to the hotel. You will not 
be lonely without me } ” 

“ I shall not be lonely without you,” she said, with 
determination ; but when they stood a little later in 
the middle of a huge mirror-lined reception-room, 
she looked askance at the big plush chairs holding 
out inviting arms to her, and faltered, “You will 
not be very long } ” 


RUBICON MEADOWS ARE LEFT BEHIND. 6t 

He smiled in immense gratification, and to his 
further surprise received a voluntary caress and 
a pat on the shoulder, while she lisped, “’Steban, 
don’t let any of those things run over you.” 

He stood waiting for an instant, a slight stealthy 
colour creeping to his face. But there were no 
further endearments for him. She was staring out 
the window with her round, childish eyes ; and mut- 
tering, “ Half a loaf is better than no bread,” he 
swung himself down-stairs and on to a street-car. 

He did not see her again until the next morning. 
She was tired and had gone to bed was the message 
he received when he returned to the hotel. 

Something in her appearance amused him as she 
came gliding down the long corridor, and he smiled 
a smile so broad that it threatened to degenerate into 
a grin. However, he controlled himself when she 
approached him, and said, politely, ‘‘Good morning, 
did you sleep well.? You didn’t sleep at all!” he 
exclaimed, bringing her to a standstill, and putting 
an anxious finger on the dark semicircles under her 
eyes. “ You were frightened to death in that great 
room.” 

“ I was not frightened. I didn’t sleep because 
I wanted to think,” she replied; “also I was very 
angry with a young boy.” 


62 


HER SAILOR. 


<*What young boy?” he asked, cajolingly, as he 
drew her into a near writing-room to avoid a bevy 
of ladies on their way to the dining-room. 

** A boy that came when I rang the bell.” 

“ A bell-boy. What did he do ? ” 

He called me ‘ ma’am,’ and when I asked him 
what he meant he said, ‘ Beg pardon, Mrs. F ordyce ! ’ 
How could you, — how dare you ? ” 

Captain Fordyce suppressed his amusement. 
“Well, are you not Mrs. Fordyce?” 

“ No ; you must not write me down your wife. 
I want to be Miss Danvers.” 

“ Have you no regard for my reputation, pussy- 
cat?” 

“ You said young ladies could travel with cap- 
tains.” 

“Yes, they can,” he said, soothingly, “but I pre- 
fer you to take the name that belongs to you. You 
are always crying honesty. What about sailing under 
false colours ? ” 

“ I think we had better have some breakfast,” she 
said, haughtily. 

“Yes, Nina, but first go take off that red tog- 
gery.” 

“My morning jacket,” she said, with annoyance, 
“my new morning jacket with the pinked edges. 


RUBICON MEADOWS ARE LEFT BEHIND. 63 

Mamma said it would be just the thing for break- 
fast.” 

‘‘For Rubicon Meadows, not for a city hotel.” 

“ I refuse to take it off. Mamma spent hours in 
making it.” 

“ Then I refuse to take breakfast with you, little 
green, country apple.” 

“ Whose fault is it that I am green ? ” she said, 
irritably. “ Who has kept me mewed up in the 
country ? ” 

“ The best place for you, duckie. Go take off that 
jacket.” 

“ Oh, I am so disappointed in you. I am so sorry 
I left home. I thought men were nice and amiable 
when they were married. I thought they would let 
their wives do anything; and you said you lov — 
loved me ! ” 

“ So I do, sweetheart,” he said, soothingly ; “ but 
I don’t want to have people goggling at you. You 
are sensitive and nervous from yesterday, and your 
lack of sleep last night. You could not stand obser- 
vation. Come back and show me what you have in 
the way of clothes. Your esteemed mother may 
know more about books than I do, but I bet you she 
doesn’t know so much about the fashions.” 

With a proud and dignified air the girl led the way 


64 


HER SAILOR. 


to her room. ‘‘There,” she said, throwing back her 
trunk lid, “ you may see all I have. They’re mostly 
things you sent me, anyway.” 

He rapidly tossed over every article of clothing 
submitted to him. “ All very well for a maiden lady, 
not quite enough for a married one.” 

“Will you stop.?” she said, warningly. “I am 
not married.” 

“Certainly, darling. Here — what’s the matter 
with this ? This is what I call a blue silk blouse 
with a dash of gold for trimming. Natty, slightly 
nautical, and in good taste. Take off your red 
flannel jacket, and I will help you on with it.” 

“You will do nothing of the sort,” she said, open- 
ing the door. “ Go out into the hall.” 

He stuffed his handkerchief in his mouth so that 
she would not hear him laughing, and, having attained 
to sobriety when she issued from the room a few 
minutes later, went soberly down the hall by the 
side of his disturbed young princess. 

She thawed when they reached the big dining- 
room. “Shy, with all her bravado,” he muttered, 
watching her as she crept along in his wake. 
“Treats me like a dog when we are alone, and like 
a lord before strangers. It would pay to keep her 
in a crowd,” 


RUBICON MEADOWS ARE LEFT BEHIND. 65 

She took but little breakfast, and once or twice 
volunteered remarks to him in a gentle and touch- 
ingly confidential tone. Her lips quivered several 
times, and his face darkened at the sight ; for he 
knew she was thinking of her home and her uncertain 
parentage. 

“ Confusion to the brute that forced me to snatch 
her from that quiet place,” he reflected, with inward 
anger. “ I wish I could see him squirm ; ” and his 
gaze went to those windows of the dining-room 
nearest the shores of distant England. Then he 
addressed Nina under his breath : “ Darling, will you 
do some shopping with me before we go on board the 
Merrimac f ” 

If you word that sentence properly, I will,” she 
returned, quietly. 

<< Miss Danvers, will you be kind enough to bestow 
the light of your countenance on me while I make a 
tour of the principal Boston stores ” 

“Yes,” she replied, tranquilly, “I will.” 

For several hours they went from store to store. 
He was hard to suit ; and Nina was obliged to allow 
herself to be pinched, pulled, and fitted by obse- 
quious dressmakers and their attendants, until at 
last her husband and guardian was satisfied. He 
put her in a hack; and the bewildered, interested. 


66 


HER SAILOR. 


and slightly homesick girl found herself being rap- 
idly driven through a noisy, dirty, and mysterious 
part of the city that at last, however, opened on 
a stretch of narrow blue water. 

She uttered an exclamation of delight, and hung 
out the carriage window. They had rolled into an 
enormously long and vaulted shed in which bales of 
merchandise were piled as high as the roof. Some 
of these bales were flying wildly through the air, all, 
however, swinging in the direction of several black, 
open mouths in the hull of a huge steamer lying 
against the wharf outside. A number of light yellow 
boxes were also tumbling to and fro, these propelled 
by shouting men. The mad haste prevailing among 
animate and inanimate objects made Nina fall a prey 
to complete bewilderment, and she frantically clung 
to the strong arm that was to guide her through this 
sea of apparent confusion. 

When they reached the gangway, a kind of paraly- 
sis seized her, and she was conscious of being lifted 
bodily and set down on a floor as clean as that of the 
scrubbed kitchens in Rubicon Meadows. 

She was on the deck of ’Steban’s beloved Merri- 
mac ; and, gazing hurriedly about her, she took in 
the noble lines of a staunch and beautiful ocean- 
going steamer, But ’Steban had disappeared after 


RUBICON MEADOWS ARE LEFT BEHIND. 67 

a brief, Show this lady to ninety-three ; ” and some 
one was waiting to conduct her down into the heart 
of this wonderful and mysterious thing. She meekly 
followed her guide, who was a smart boy in buttons, 
and presently she found herself alone and standing 
in front of a narrow red couch. She dropped on it, 
passed her hand over her eyes, and sat for a few 
minutes in blank contentment. 

Then she began to reflect. She was quite alone 
in a tiny room not a quarter as large as her bedroom 
in Rubicon Meadows. She was very, very young. 
She had left her darling home and two people who 
adored her. She was going to sea with a monster 
whom she hated and could never, never live with. 
The passengers on the steamer would probably be 
fine city people who would despise her as a green 
country girl ; but she did not care. She would 
wear her red jacket to breakfast every morning if 
she wished. They would probably all be shipwrecked 
and go down to the fishes. What did anything mat- 
ter, anyway ? 

From blank despair she proceeded to a more active 
display of her emotions, and was soon violently weep- 
ing. She would cry now until she died. She was a 
poor, unfortunate lily, uprooted from her native soil. 
She was withering cruelly in this atmosphere of 


68 


HER SAILOR. 


neglect. ’Steban might have spent at least five min- 
utes with her on her arrival in this new and strange 
place, and she redoubled her “ tear falling pity." 

However, at eighteen one cannot weep for ever, 
and after an hour had elapsed she sat up and began 
to review her situation. After all, it was not so very 
heartrending. How many girls in Rubicon Meadows 
would give their worldly all to be in her position, — 
Captain Fordyce and all her other woes included ? 
And if she were too desperately unhappy on this 
dreaded voyage, and if she were to escape shipwreck, 
her home was always open to her, — her beloved 
home ; and flinging herself excitedly from the couch 
she began to pace up and down the tiny room. 

How well planned it was : two white berths, one 
red couch, a wash-stand and rack for glasses and 
brushes, and a big open port-hole encased by a shin- 
ing brass rim. Oh, and a glass ! and, hurrying to it, 
she examined with interest her tear-stained face. 
White skin, pink cheeks, fluffy auburn hair, hazel 
eyes, nose passable, and one row of white teeth. 
Further than that the liliputian mirror refused to 
go, and, with a smile at its absurdity in not taking 
in her chin and lower row of teeth, she resolved to 
have it more conveniently hung, and turned to her 
window. 


RUBICON MEADOWS ARE LEFT BEHIND. 69 

There was a great rattling of ropes overhead and 
creaking of chains, a running to and fro, and a suc- 
cession of whistles ; and, surely now they were mov- 
ing, actually moving. She would like to go on deck, 
but she would not venture alone. Well, she could 
see a section of the long wharf from here. It was * 
gliding slowly from them. Surely it was moving, and 
the Merrimac was stationary. Some of the boxes 
and bales were left behind ; the rearing, plunging 
horses were being driven away; the workmen were 
scattering; but here on the end of the wharf was 
a crowd of men and women, the air about them 
alive with waving handkerchiefs, hats describing 
eccentric circles in the air, and shouted parting 
injunctions; among which the invariable “Write 
soon ” gallantly held its own against numerous 
odds. 

There was no one to see her off, no one who cared 
for her. She did not even belong to the Danvers. 
She was probably a lonely orphan, and she again 
flung herself down on the red couch and buried her 
face in her hands. 


CHAPTER V. 


FELLOW SHIPS ON THE SEA OF LIFE. 

Some hours passed, but Nina lay quiet and motion- 
less. She had taken her troubles to dreamland ; and, 
in a motley company, she sauntered through its pleas- 
ant shades until a shrill whistle from the deck pierced 
her sleepy brain and caused her to spring nervously 
to her feet. 

She had been asleep. Well, she felt better for it. 
How delicious was the salt air ! and she put her face 
to the port-hole. Now there was nothing but “water, 
water all around,” and, as the other line of the quota- 
tion came into her mind, she reflected that it was her 
supper-time, and that the strong sea air had made 
her fearfully and wonderfully hungry and thirsty. 
Should she reconnoitre > No, she would certainly 
lose her way in the labyrinth of passages. ’Steban 
would surely come to her rescue. 

Simultaneously with the ringing of a bell there 
was a knock at her door. 

She opened it and smiled as a fat stewardess 


70 


FELLOW SHIPS ON THE SEA OF LIFE. yi 

gasped out the words, ‘^Captain Fordyce wants to 
know — won’t you have — some dinner ? ” 

“ Won’t you sit down ? ” said the girl, hospitably. 
“Yes, I guess I’ll have some dinner. Isn’t it pretty 
late for it ” 

“I reckon you’re from the country,” said the 
stewardess, dropping like a stone on the couch, that 
gave a low groan at her contact. “We don’t have 
supper till nine. Lunch is in the middle o’ the day.” 

“Indeed,” said Nina, quietly. 

“I hope you find everythin’ comfortable,” said the 
woman, gazing approvingly at the frank, pretty face 
bent on her. “ It’s a blessing you ain’t goin’ to be 
sick. I see you with the capting. He don’t gen- 
’rally bother with passengers. P’raps he knows your 
fam’ly.” 

From Nina’s earliest recollection Captain Fordyce 
had been a forbidden subject of conversation; and 
she had been strictly warned not to mention his 
name outside her own home, so she responded, 
vaguely, that he was an old friend of her parents. 

“ He keeps — mostly to himself,” panted the stew- 
ardess. “ He’s an odd man — is the capting. Kind 
of grouchy and queer. I guess he’s led a tough life. 
Hard work, few friends, little play. Do you fancy 
him, miss } ” 


72 


HER SAILOR. 


** No,” said Nina, rashly. 

No more did I at first,” said the woman, sympa- 
thetically. “It’ll come to you, miss. He’s got a 
soft spot under his hard shell. Many’s the good 
deed he does. The men all like him, though he’s 
a bit hard at first. I heard the second officer — 
he’s new to the ship — tell the doctor that he’s 
a reg’lar martin — martin — ” 

“Martinet,” suggested Nina. 

“ That’s it, miss, but I say it takes all kind o’ folks 
to make a world ; and if the capting hasn’t got his 
lips smeared with honey, he knows fine how to work 
a ship. Come on, my dear young lady. The cap- 
ting’ll think you’re not a-coming,” and she shuffled 
down a passage leading to the long, low dining-saloon. 

She paused in the doorway, and Nina gave a quick 
sigh of appreciation. This saloon was infinitely more 
homelike than the huge hotel dining-room. The 
windows were all open to the evening air. Cheerful 
sunbeams streamed through them, lighted up the 
crimson-covered furniture, the snowy tables, and 
rejoiced the hearts of a number of yellow-throated 
canaries, who poured forth a continuous warble from 
cages half hidden in a bank of green ferns. 

At the head of the table nearest the doorway sat 
a man in a black and gold uniform. The stewardess 


FELLOW SHIPS ON THE SEA OF LIFE. 73 

pointed to him. “Your seat is there, miss, next the 
capting.” 

At the sound of her voice Captain Fordyce turned, 
and, seeing his young wife, rose and extended a hand. 
“ Ah ! here you are. I was afraid you had succumbed 
to seasickness.” Then twirling around a chair next 
his own, he said : “This is your place.” 

His manner was conventional, and overcome by it 
and the uniform, that was quite a new thing to her, 
Nina subsided into her seat with a pretty blushing 
stare ; then, dropping her eyes, looked at the dainty 
buttonhole bouquet in the centre of her elaborately 
folded napkin. The rosebud and sprig of heliotrope 
seemed like old friends blown her from the garden 
at home, and, gently putting them to her face, she 
looked around to see what the other ladies were 
doing with theirs. They were fastening them in 
their dresses. She imitated them, then taking up 
the menu beside her plate she read in bewilderment 
its comprehensive contents. 

The tall steward standing behind her chair 
breathed a soft little sigh ; thus admonished of her 
duty, she hastily found the soups, and, running her 
eye over the different kinds, said, “Tomato.” 

In a trice he reappeared with it. As she picked 
up her spoon Captain Fordyce said, inquiringly : 


74 


HER SAILOR. 


So you are not going to be ill ? ” 

“I have been ill, dreadfully ill,” said the girl, 
innocently, ‘‘but I have got quite over it now.” 

“And we are just three hours out of port,” he 
remarked, in a quiet, amused fashion. “ Allow me 
to congratulate you on the celerity with which you 
have vanquished the foe to enjoyment of life at 
sea. I hope my other passengers may be equally 
fortunate.” 

Not feeling inclined for conversation, Nina let this 
remark pass. Captain Fordyce looked away from her 
down the crowded tables, then said to a lady on his 
left hand, “ You asked about the weather, Mrs. 
Grayley. I prophesy that there won’t be a score 
of people at these tables to-morrow.” 

She uttered a disturbed exclamation. “ Are we 
going to have it rough ? ” 

He gave her a curtly polite, “Yes.” It was not 
his habit to talk much. He preferred to listen. This 
she seemed to divine, and forthwith poured out an 
animated stream of babble on the probability of 
their having bad weather during their voyage to 
England. 

For several courses Nina was left to herself, and 
occupied the time by studying the passenger list 
and making a careful examination of the faces about 


FELLOW SHIPS ON THE SEA OF LIFE. 75 

her. She avoided the head of the table. The fea- 
tures of the man sitting there were as well-known 
to her as her own, although this evening his uni- 
form did seem to give him a strange unfamiliarity of 
aspect. 

The lady to whom he was talking looked forty or 
thereabout, though she was chattering in a babyish 
way that Nina, in spite of her youth, could scarcely 
emulate. Her face was unattractive, — a combination 
of faded beauty and silliness ; but one only and 
beautiful charm she possessed, namely, her hands. 
They were wonderfully white and pretty, and she 
made them do extra duty by keeping her elbows on 
the table the greater part of the time. 

Nina’s eyes wandered from Mrs. Grayley to her 
neighbour, a tall, plain-featured man whose benevo- 
lent blue eyes chastened the warlike aspect of his 
immense blond moustache and aquiline nose. Under 
his right eyebrow was a gold-rimmed glass ; and 
while she covered it with a prolonged stare, she 
gathered from his conversation that he was an officer 
in an English regiment, and that he had been making 
a tour of the principal American cities. 

Suddenly he met her glance, and, wrinkling his 
forehead, let his glass fall with a click on the shiny 
buttons of his coat, with the effect of making her 


76 


HER SAILOR. 


Start slightly. As he was looking at her, her occu- 
pation in his direction was gone ; so she glanced 
cautiously at his left-hand neighbour, who had not 
yet got beyond the entrees, and was obstinately 
demanding something that the menu did not contain, 
and yet that he thought he had discovered there. 

Nina in awed wonderment gazed at the expanse 
of red throat presented, as the determined man 
twisted his head to remonstrate with the steward. 
This was a real live English knight. Sir Hervey 
Forrest. She should be quite frightened of him. 
He had a round, thick head, bristling gray hairs, 
pompous figure, and overpowering manner. Surely 
he should have had the chief seat at the table, — 
he and his wife, the gray, smooth, elegant, distin- 
guished little mouse beside him, who rarely opened 
her mouth, except to put food in it in the daintiest 
way possible. Their names headed the passenger 
list at least, and Nina was just reading them over 
again, when a growl from the knight caught her 
attention. 

He had come off second best in the dispute with 
the steward, and was now addressing her husband. 
‘‘You, sir, — you ought to have your bills of fare 
printed. Your passengers, sir, get lost in this maze 
of writing.” 


FELLOW SHIPS ON THE SEA OF LIFE. 77 

Nina trembled, and gazed apprehensively at Cap- 
tain Fordyce, who was coolly surveying the inflamed 
face turned toward him. 

‘*We don’t carry a printing-press, sir. The com- 
pany has expense enough in other ways.” 

Haven’t you got a typewriter, sir } Haven’t 
you got a typewriter ? ” spluttered the disturbed 
man. 

believe we have,” returned Captain Fordyce. 
“ Merdyce,” and he addressed his own servant who 
stood behind his chair, “ask the chief steward to 
have Sir Hervey Forrest’s menu typewritten to- 
morrow.” 

The knight was enraged. He had attained to his 
present high position from a comparatively low 
origin. There were enough jokes at his expense 
floating about now to keep him in constant irritation. 
In addition, the impression would get out that he 
could only decipher the most legible handwriting. 
“ I don’t want a menu typewritten for me alone, 
sir,” he stammered ; “ have them done for all the 
passengers.” 

Captain Fordyce, usually impatient and scornful 
with bickering, faultfinding passengers, was now 
intensely entertained, owing to the fact that Miss 
Brighteyes was hanging on his every word and look, 


78 


HER SAILOR. 


and was breathlessly watching every turn of the 
dispute. 

Only as they request them, Sir Hervey,” he 
said, good-naturedly. “ Do I understand you to say 
you revoke your request ? ” 

Lady Forrest murmured something in a low voice 
to her choleric spouse, and he flung himself over his 
plate. “ Let it go, sir, let it go. Your menu is a 
slovenly thing, but I prefer it as it is.” 

‘‘ Merdyce,” said Captain Fordyce, turning to his 
servant with an imperturbable air, “ do not tell the 
chief steward to typewrite a menu for Sir Hervey 
Forrest to-morrow.” 

Nina exchanged a smile with her husband, then 
stole a quiet glance across the vacant chair on her 
right hand. Beyond the chair sat a young man ; and 
she was quite well aware of the fact that, while she 
had been taken up with a survey of the other people 
at the table, he had been throwing her a number of 
scrutinising glances across the red plush seat. Now 
she looked stealthily at him. Heretofore her ac- 
quaintance with men had been extremely limited. 
In les affaires du ccetir she would prove a formidable 
rival to Moli^re’s Agnes, but that had not prevented 
her from forming several theories with regard to the 
stronger sex. They had no right to be as handsome 


FELLOW SHIPS ON THE SEA OF LIFE. 79 

as women, that she firmly believed ; yet, notwith- 
standing her preconceived opinion, a feeling of 
admiration stole over her as she surveyed the manly 
beauty of the tall, graceful form next her ; and she 
half-im patiently acknowledged to herself that he 
eclipsed by far the most beautiful woman that she 
had ever seen. 

His eyelids’ black and silken fringe ” was droop- 
ing on the “ vermil tinge ” of his cheek, as he gazed 
thoughtfully at his plate. Something pleasing must 
be passing through his mind, for soon he smiled 
faintly, and she caught a glimpse of glittering white 
.teeth through the heavy black of his moustache. He 
had the full, distinct, and well-proportioned lips that, 
according to Lavater, designate a character hostile to 
falsehood, villainy, and baseness, but with a propensity 
to pleasure ! 

The infatuating nature of the science of physiog- 
nomy had led the girl to study intently a Lavater 
that she one day found among some old books be- 
longing to Mrs. Danvers. Accordingly, she pieced 
out for her neighbour a character that she hoped she 
might have the satisfaction of finding to be correct. 
He was not wanting in the perpendicular incisions 
between the eyebrows that evidenced strength of 
mind, nor in the energy-portending black eyes. His 


So 


HER SAILOR. 


horizontal eyebrows denoted a masculine and vigor- 
ous character, and the broad, square forehead, a 
strong memory. 

She was just trying to decide whether his chin 
meant coolness of temper or extreme good nature, 
when she heard, in a dry tone, ‘‘A penny for your 
thoughts.” 

She looked up and found that Captain Fordyce’s 
deep, dark-pupilled eyes were turned on her with an 
expression almost of displeasure. 

** I have asked you twice for the walnuts,” he went 
on, yet you dream away as if you were alone in a 
desert.” 

*‘So I am alone in a dessert,” she said, mischie- 
vously, as she put the dish within his reach. 

He shook his head at her, then applied himself to 
his nuts. Nina tried to be less absent-minded, but 
she took no part in the animated conversation kept 
up by the most of the passengers. She did not 
scrutinise any more of them. Their number be- 
wildered her. She would attack the remainder 
to-morrow ; and there was another wave of home- 
sickness passing over her. She dropped the bunch 
of raisins she had just taken, threw down her napkin, 
and left the table. 

While she was hurriedly trying to find her way to 


FELLOW SHIPS OH THE SEA OF LIFE. 8 1 


her room, she heard a step behind her, and a remark 
in her husband’s deep voice : “ I am on my way to 
see the other young lady that I have in charge. She 
is ill already, but I think I can persuade her to spend 
the evening in the chart-room. I have some writing 
to do. Perhaps you will come and help me entertain 
her. It will be pleasanter for you than sitting alone 
or among all these strangers.” 

* 

‘‘I — I don’t think I would do her any good,” 
stammered Nina, plaintively. 

What about misery and company } ” 

She reluctantly made a gesture of consent, and 
Captain Fordyce continued, “ Let us go to ninety- 
three and get a wrap, so you may have a walk before 
going to bed.” 

thought you didn’t like red,” observed Nina, 
coldly, when he stepped out of her room holding a 
brilliant-hued cloak. 

“ For a wrap, yes,” he remarked, folding it over 
his arm. “ It is just the thing for youth and beauty, 
and gives a glow to your travelling frock. It also 
reminds me of Rubicon Meadows, — you remember 
you used to wear it there } ” 

Yes, she remembered it ; but she made no reply, 
and silently followed him up a companionway, and 
past the deck-cabins to a little room just under the 


82 


HER SAILOR. 


bridge. It was a tiny place, but exceedingly cosy. 
Crimson curtains hung before the door and the 
two small windows ; the walls were lined with 
mirrors, pictures, and different kinds of nautical 
instruments that to Nina’s inexperienced eyes 
looked like mouse-traps. A large lamp covered by 
a rose shade shed a soft, subdued light over every- 
thing. 

‘‘ How delightfully comfortable ! ” she exclaimed, 
her displeasure suddenly leaving her. 

Captain Fordyce pulled forward an armchair, and 
with a pleased smile ran down the steps to the deck. 
Presently he came back. “ Miss Marsden is horribly 
sick, and hopes we may all go to the bottom before 
morning.” 

“ Poor girl ! ” said Nina, compassionately. ** Can I 
do anything for her } ” 

“ No ; she has her maid and the stewardess.” 

** A maid — all to herself } ” 

“Yes, she has plenty of money.” 

“ Where does she come from } ” 

“ Boston.” 

“ What is she going to England for .? ” 

“ Love-sickness, — to cure it. Her mother told 
me that she had been jilted. She is going to visit 
relatives in London.” 


FELLOW SHIPS ON THE SEA OF LIFE. 83 

What a mean man ! ” exclaimed Nina. Then she 
added, sentimentally, She will forget him. 

“ ‘ For love fares hardly on ingratitude ; 

And love dies quickly nurtured by deceit ; 

And love turns hatred captured by a cheat.’ ” 

Captain Fordyce listened in an attention so fasci- 
nated and so flattering that Nina thought well to 
turn his thoughts in another direction, and therefore 
asked, shrewdly, ‘‘Was that nobleman mad because 
he couldn’t sit by you at dinner ? ” 

“I guess he was. Miss New England,” said her 
husband, with a sigh, “ but he is not a nobleman.” 

“He has a title.” 

“ He was knighted on the occasion of some royal 
celebration. He was a mayor of a Cheshire city at 
the time, — made his money in coal.” 

“ Isn’t he a bloated aristocrat .? 

“ No.” 

“ Then if he is only bloated without the aristocrat 
I sha’n’t be afraid of him. Why didn’t you let him sit 
beside you ? ” 

“ Because he didn’t apply in time. Those that get 
their names in first get the best seats. I am not 
going to have exceptions made for Sir Hervey 
Forrest or any other person.” 


84 


HER SAILOR. 


“ I didn’t apply for my seat.” 

** I was looking out for you.” 

“It is good for every woman to have some man 
to attend to business matters for her,” said the girl, 
sententiously. 

“ Is that the only path of usefulness you would lay 
out for mankind 

“Oh, no,” she replied, carelessly, “they can carry 
parcels, and get you through a crowd, and not talk 
foolishness when you want silence. Where did that 
bloater get his nice little gray herring ? ” 

“If you mean Lady Forrest, she was a milliner’s 
pretty apprentice, I believe, in her early days. She 
seems a ladylike woman, though, more ballast than 
he has.” 

“That is a very beautiful young man next me,” 
said Nina, earnestly. “ Do you know who he is ” 

“No; don’t want to. A regular tailor’s figure.” 

“ What is his name } ” 

“ Delessert ; now please stop your charming 
gabble and let me work,” and, whirling around his 
chair toward the table, he occupied himself in scrib- 
bling queer figures like hieroglyphics, the meaning 
of which Nina was unable to determine. She leaned 
back on her cushions and indulged in sweet idleness. 
Presently Captain Fordyce’s gold-rimmed cap caught 


FELLOW SHIPS ON THE SEA OF LIFE. 8$ 

her dreamy, wandering eye. To glance from it to 
its owner was a natural thing. She lazily surveyed 
his face through her half-shut eyelids. What an air 
of command he carried. If she were a sailor she 
would be afraid to disobey the slightest order coming 
from that determined mouth ; but, not being a sailor, 
— she laughed so distinctly that she feared he heard 
her. But he did not. His mind was fully taken up 
with his writing, and, seeing this, she closed her eyes 
and gave herself up to a retrospect of the exciting 
and fatiguing events of the last two days. 


CHAPTER VI. 


LET US MAKE A NEW BEGINNING. 

Suddenly a seeming trumpet voice broke in upon 
her slumbers. She started, and half rose from her 
chair. 

“ Eh ! what } " she cried, crossly, “ no, I am not 
asleep ; why do you roar at me in that fashion ? ” 

“ I spoke in an ordinary tone of voice,” said 
Captain Fordyce, quietly. 

‘‘ Did you ? ” she said, confusedly, I must have 
been dreaming.” 

‘‘Yes, you were asleep. You sat thinking for a 
long time, then your eyes closed, and you dropped 
off.” 

She glanced sharply at him. He was about to 
enter upon his favourite topic of conversation, namely, 
herself, and, anxious to get him off such dangerous 
ground, she pointed beyond him, and said, hurriedly, 
“ I love the sea when it looks like that.” 

The curtains were looped back, and the doorway 
framed for them a charming picture, — a stretch of 
86 


LET US MAKE A NEW BEGINNING. 87 

the deepest, darkest, bluest sea imaginable, and over 
it a moon new and radiant, set in a sky studded with 
brightly twinkling stars. As Captain Fordyce turned 
and looked over his shoulder, a small cloud dragged 
its white fleece across the silver crescent. 

“ See what it is to have an evil eye,” he said, half 
aloud; *^at one glance from me the scene changes.” 

Nina knew little of the dark side of his nature, 
and, touched by the suppressed bitterness of his tone, 
she felt it incumbent on her to say something to 
comfort him. 

You have not an evil eye, ’Steban. You have a 
good eye, and people like you, — your sailors, too.” 

He suddenly turned his gaze from the starry sky 
to her. “ Who told you that } ” 

Oh, some one,” she replied, evasively. 

“ That old gossip of a stewardess ? ” 

Nina would not tell him, and he bent his head 
to conceal the quick, gratified flush that overspread 
his face. 

‘‘What time is it.?” asked the girl, rising. “I 
must go to bed.” 

“ Not late,” he answered, idly, snapping the shabby 
silver case of his watch. 

“ Tell me exactly.” 

“ Half-past eight.” 


88 


HER SAILOR. 


Oh, it must be later ; I believe it is later,” and 
she came and looked over his shoulder. Story- 
teller ! it is half-past nine. Please hand me my 
cloak.” 

He watched with the utmost interest her trans- 
formation from a damsel clad in a sober travelling 
suit to the gayest, most vivid of Red Riding Hoods. 
Then he said, with sober admiration : You would not 
have that lily and rose complexion, Nina, if it were 
not for your early hours.” 

Annoyed by the broadness of his compliment and 
the mention of her Christian name, that she sud- 
denly considered a breach of compact, she flashed 
him an indignant, remonstrating glance, while tying 
the ribbons of her cape. 

** May I assist you.^” he asked, coming toward 
her. 

Her mouth opened to refuse his offer, but he 
closed it by stooping down and lightly imprinting a 
kiss on her lips. Her first sentiment was one of 
unmitigated wonder. Then stepping back against 
the wall, she stared at him in anger complete and 
undisguised. 

** I could not help it. Red Riding Hood,” he said, 
with a deprecatory gesture. “ It is that Rubicon 
Meadows cloak. I am sure you won’t blame me 


LET US MAKE A NEW BEGINNING. 89 

when you look in the glass and see how fascinating 
you are.’* 

His light tone aggravated the extent of his trans- 
gression ; and with cheeks on fire and in a suffo- 
cated voice she stammered : ‘‘How dare you do so ? 
You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” 

He had not heard her. His two hands were 
gently laid on her shoulders, and in a voice of inef- 
fable tenderness he was repeating under his breath, 
“ My little wife, my little wife.” 

Nina was frightened, confused, and tried to push 
his hands away, but he quietly restrained her. “Dar- 
ling, — since those solemn words were spoken over 
us yesterday, — is there a difference } ” 

“Yes — no,” she stammered, wildly. Then as he 
still caressed her, and regarded her with the new, 
strange expression that fascinated and yet repelled 
her, she exclaimed, wildly : “ ’Steban, don’t, oh, don’t, 
don’t. Don't be serious. Please let me go. I do 
not love you, really. Not enough to live with you 
all the time. Don’t say such things to me. I am in 
earnest. I am.” 

He stared sadly at the hand she had caught and 
was holding in both her own, then he drew it from 
her and turned to the doorway. 

“ I don’t blame you,” she whispered against his 


90 


HER SAILOR. 


shoulder ; ** but you must not speak in that way to 
me. You make me frantic. I suppose it was the 
cloak.” 

Yes, it was the cloak,” he said, quietly. ** I beg 
your pardon, Nina. It was certainly the cloak.” 

I will take it off,” she said, hurriedly, and she 
threw it across her arm. 

‘‘Little goose,” and he wrapped it over her shoul- 
ders, tied it under her chin, then in his old brotherly 
manner drew the hood over her head and tucked in 
the curls that had always held out a fluttering temp- 
tation to him when his little sweetheart donned the 
cloak to stroll with him to the gate of the Rubicon 
Meadows house. 

“Now,” he said, drawing aside the curtains, “let 
me escort you to your room.” 

Nina did not know why a mist of tears suddenly 
floated before her eyes. Stumbling blindly out, she 
made a false step, and would have fallen, save for 
the protecting arm thrown around her. By the time 
they reached the deck she was speechless, and, draw- 
ing her arm through his own. Captain Fordyce walked 
toward the companion. There he paused in order 
that she might step over the high, brass-covered 
threshold of the door. 

The careless debonair face of her handsome neigh- 


LET US MAKE A NEW BEGINNING. 9I 

hour at dinner appeared. Seeing her, he took his 
cigar from his mouth, and lifted his cap as he 
passed. Captain Fordyce wrinkled his forehead 
slightly, and said in her ear, “ Come for a walk. 
It will make you sleep better.” 

Nina made a faint, convulsive effort to withdraw 
her arm from his. Without avail, however, for he 
did not perceive it, and drew her out on the deck 
again with a muttered, “ It has got as dark as a 
pocket. I don’t like the way those clouds are 
gathering.” 

There was no response to his remark, and for 
several minutes they paced in silence up and down 
the quarter-deck. “You are not talking,” he said, 
at last ; “ are you tired or in the doldrums } ” 

Their promenade had ceased, and they were stand- 
ing by the stern rail looking down at the phosphores- 
cent waves below. His seriousness was all gone, and 
in a jocular tone he ejaculated, “ Doldrums it is ! ” 
Nina was staring down at the churning, foaming 
mass around the angry screw. She, too, was trying 
to lash herself into a rage, but her effort was not as 
successful as that of the bit of machinery below ; 
and it was in a weak and unstable voice that she 
murmured, “ You have broken your promise.” 

“What promise, darling?” It was very dark in 


92 


HER SAILOR. 


the corner where they were standing, and he drew 
her closer and whispered the words in her ear. 

‘‘That — that you would be a stranger to me,” 
she whispered back. 

He laughed immoderately. “You queer child ! ” 

“You did,” she said, faintly; “yesterday on the 
bridge you said if I would come you would be care- 
ful. Nobody would suspect our relation to each 
other.” 

“Nobody will know from me. I am propriety, 
reticence itself, when there is any one about. Only 
when we are alone will I give you a chance to snub 
me.” 

“ But you promised for all the time.” 

“Pardon me, darling, I did not. In all the long 
list of things you made me swear not to do in the 
presence of strangers, there was not a word said 
about my behaviour when we were alone.” 

Nina was staggered. “ Didn’t I .? ” she gasped. 
“That is why you are so bad. What a simpleton 
I am ! Let me go to bed.” 

“All right, you dear, little, bad-tempered thing. 
My only wish is to please you,” and he released her 
arm and drew his cigar-case from his pocket. 

A near lamp threw a lurid glare over his swarthy 
features, but her figure was completely in the 


LET US MAKE A NEW BEGINNING. 93 

shadow. To his surprise, she did not disappear 
with an abusive sentence. She still lingered, and, 
drawing nearer him, she stood for a minute in deep- 
est thought. Then she took him gingerly by the 
coat sleeve, and whispered, in faintly audible tones, 
^‘^Steban!” 

‘‘Yes, darling,” he muttered, holding his breath 
as he bent down to the animated face now glowing 
with some sudden and exquisite emotion. 

“ I want to tell you what is in my mind.” 

“Just what I would like to hear,” he uttered, in 
the same cautious way. 

“You know I haven’t been brought up like other 
girls.” 

“Just like thousands of other sweet country girls, 
darling.” 

“You know what I mean,” she murmured, not 
pettishly, but with angelic forbearance. “ I mean 
about you. Most girls aren’t tied to a man as I have 
been.” 

“ You could have broken your bonds at any time.” 

“ So you have told me,” she said, with the faintest 
flash of indignation ; “ but how could I ^ Had I no 
gratitude.^ — and I don’t like the boys at home. 
They are not as clever as you.” 

He suppressed a delighted chuckle. 


94 


tlER SAILOR. 


‘‘And I expect some day that I shall get to be 
very fond of you — very fond, ’Steban.” 

“ Heaven hasten the day,” he muttered. 

“ But, ’Steban, if I take my own way about it the 
day will come quicker.” 

“Then take it by all means, darling.” 

“Now, I’ll tell you just what I think,” she went 
on, resting one hand on his breast, and staring more 
earnestly into his face : “I’m a free-born American, 
and you are one half English and the other half 
Spanish.” 

“Bless her,” he reflected with inward perturba- 
tion, “ if she only knew ! ” 

“And I have independent ways, and your Euro- 
pean style of treating women doesn’t suit me.’* 

“What style is it, darling, if I may ask } ” 

“ A kind of lordly style. You seem to think, 
‘This woman is mine. I can do what I like with 
her.’ ” 

“ A vile style, sweetheart, — a much-to-be-con- 
demned style, quite unknown in America.” 

“ Now, as I say, if you will do as I tell you, you 
may make me think a great deal of you in a very 
short time. I want to put you back in your proper 
position. You see I have known you too long, and 
you have known me too well. You must try to be 


LET US MAKE A NEW BEGINNING. 95 

meek and humble like a gentleman just getting 
acquainted with me ; and you must always try to 
please me and not order me about. Don’t say, ‘ Come 
for a walk.’ Say, ‘Won’t you be kind enough to 
take a little stroll with me 

“ Very well, darling. Won’t you be kind enough 
to take a little stroll with me } ” 

“ Not this evening. Captain Fordyce,” she re- 
sponded, graciously. “ Perhaps to-morrow morning. 
Now another thing. Don’t take too much notice of 
me. Let me hear your praises from other people. 
Sometimes you brag a little about the way you run 
a ship.” 

“ I never do,” he said, hastily. 

“Yes, ’Steban,” she said, very gently, but with 
decision. “ Once or twice when the company gave 
you a bonus.” 

He was silent, and she went on. “We will be 
extremely formal with each other, and, if you can 
bring yourself to it, I wish you would call me Miss 
Danvers when we are alone. I will call you Captain 
Fordyce, and pretend that I only got acquainted 
with you yesterday. I hope no one on the steamer 
knows that we are married. What are you shivering 
for.?” 

“ A fly bit me,” he said, mendaciously. 


96 


HER SAILOR. 


“Then,” she continued, “insensibly and by de- 
grees I shall become attached to you. By the time 
we reach England, I shall be a little bit in love with 
you. I hope you will send me away off to some 
place like London, where I can write long letters to 
you. You will reply to them ; then, after a time, 
I shall be frantically in love with you just like Juliet 
with Romeo, and I shall not be able to live without 
you.” 

“ Glory to Shakespeare, darling ! ” he said, raptur- 
ously, and he embraced her. 

“But we must begin at once,” she said, gravely, 
unwinding his arm from her waist. “We have lost 
too much time already. I wish you good night. 
Captain Fordyce.” 

“I wish you good night. Miss Danvers,” and he 
took her in his arms. 

She struggled away from him. “You deceitful 
creature ! ” 

“ But we were not to begin fooling till to-morrow. 
I distinctly understood that.” 

“ I am beginning to-night,” she said, gravely ; and, 
sweeping him a curtsey, she endeavoured to walk in 
a stilted fashion down the deck, but was obliged 
to break into an undignified run because he was 
pursuing her. 


LET US MAKE A NEW BEGINNING. 97 

Upon arriving in her room, she found the “fair, 
fat, and forty” stewardess there with an armful of 
clean towels. 

“ You’ve come to bed, miss — that is, mem. I beg 
pardon, I’m sure. I didn’t know this afternoon as 
how you was the capting’s bride. I was took all 
aback. I don’t know when anything has upset me 
so.” 

In disturbed surprise Nina fastened an earnest look 
on a spot on the door just over the woman’s head. 

“ Nobody thought as how he’d marry ; but he’s 
just the one to up and do it and say nothin’. It not 
bein’ nobody’s business, and nobody could tell by his 
actions. He’s not one to care much about women. 
But as I said — I beg pardon, and it’ll not occur 
again.” 

Nina was still unresponsive, and the woman, anx- 
ious to please her, rambled on. “ I guess the whole 
ship’s as glad as I am. The boys would like to do 
somethin’.” 

“ I forbid it,” said Nina, hurriedly. 

“All right, mem. We all see you’re somethin’ 
young and shy. I’m sure I wish you fortune, mem. 
You’ve drawed a prize in the lottery.” 

“Does — does everybody know?” stammered 
Nina. 


98 


HER SAILOR. 


“Yes, mem,” said the woman, cheerfully. “That 
is, all the ship’s company. The passengers wouldn’t 
occupy themselves so much with it, but they’ll soon 
find out. You’ll get lots of attention, mem, bein’ 
the capting’s bride.” 

“ I don’t want it,” she said, quickly. “ I — I 
think I am going to be seasick.” 

“ I hope not, mem. Shall I help you undress ? ” 

“ No, thank you.” 

“ And you don’t like the capting’s rooms on deck,” 
said the woman, rolling her eyes around the tiny 
apartment. She was bursting with curiosity, but 
Nina did not see it. “Was you afraid ? ” she went 
on when no reply was vouchsafed her. 

“Yes,” said Nina, miserably. 

“ It’s safer here in storms. Let me unfasten that 
collar.” 

“ I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t feel well. 
I’ve got a dreadful pain.” 

“ A pain, mem, — where is it ? ” 

“ In my side. Please go away.” 

The stewardess’s good-humour, preserved through 
a long course of waiting on querulous and seasick 
women, was not to be upset. “ Shall I call the cap- 
ting, mem } ” 

“No,” said Nina, decidedly, and she opened the 


LET US MAJCE A NEW BEGINNING. 99 

door for her. I’ve had too much excitement to-day. 
I must be alone.” 

‘‘Married him for his money,” soliloquised the 
woman as she sidled along the passage. “ Country 
girl — parents made her. Don’t like him — Oh, sir ! 
beg pardon ! ” 

She had almost collided with Mr. Delessert. He 
favoured her with a glimpse of his beautiful white 
teeth, then he said, as she was about to pass him, 
“ Stewardess, can you tell me the name of that 
pretty girl who sat next the captain at dinner } ” 

“ She’s his wife, sir.” 

“ His wife ! ” he echoed, in faint skepticism. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Did he tell you so ? ” 

“ No, sir ; he don’t have no conversation with us. 
Her name ain’t on the list. Jim — he’s the head 
cook’s boy — he was up to the office just afore we 
started, mailin’ a package for me. One of the clerks 
says to him, ‘ So Capting Sunshine’s got married.’ 
That’s the name they give him ’cause he’s so glum. 
Jim, he gasped, but the clerk showed him the sailin’ 
list. Last name was Mrs. Fordyce, room ninety- 
three. You see, sir, the company’s particular. The 
captings ain’t allowed to carry wives only once in so 
often.” 


lOO 


HER SAILOR. 


Mr. Delessert was listening politely, but with no 
great show of interest. However, when she fin- 
ished, he drawled, in a languid way, ** Do you know 
what Mrs. Fordyce’s name was before she was 
married ? ” 

“ No, sir, but I could find out.” 

“Do so, I beg,” and he slipped something into her 
hand, and passed on. 

The woman, flattered at being addressed by so 
handsome a young man, approvingly pressed the 
piece of money in her hand. “ He’s as pretty as a 
picture. I guess the capting’s bride must remind 
him of some one he knows.” 


CHAPTER VII. 


WE ARE PROGRESSING. 

Early the next morning Nina, refreshed and 
blooming from her night’s sleep, made her way to 
the deck. She frowned, however, at the bridge, the 
centre of her husband’s authority, and, in order to 
get as far as possible from it, drew a camp-stool to a 
secluded corner by the wheel-house. 

The sea was very rough, and the Merrimac was ^ 
rolling and pitching in the huge swell, until the girl, 
in her inexperience, feared that the steamer would 
forget herself during one of her side-to-side plunges, 
and turn quite over. 

She fixed her eyes on a white sail in the distant 
horizon. Just as a high, over-topping wave hid it 
from her view, she heard a heavy footstep behind 
her. 

Involuntarily she clasped the rail more tightly 
with her bare hands. Yes, it was his grave voice, 
asking some question of an officer who stood beside 
the man at the wheel. 

lOI 


102 


HER SAILOR. 


She stared steadfastly at the stormy petrels cir- 
cling in graceful evolutions against the gray, dull sky, 
till some one came behind her, and she heard a 
formal and decorous, “ Good morning, Miss Danvers. 
Will you be kind enough to take a stroll with me ? ” 

With a silent shrug of her shoulders, she kept her 
attention riveted on the petrels. 

“ Did I not begin right } Well, then — The top 
of the morning to you, darling.” 

He was close beside her now, and his dark face 
was so near her own that she instinctively shrank 
away. 

His eyebrows contracted, and, putting his brown 
hand over her clenched white ones, he said, ^‘You 
may take cold sitting there. Come for a walk.” 

Sorely against her will she rose, and, by way of 
showing her displeasure, refused his proffered arm. 
He threw a meaning glance at the decks that seemed 
to be abandoning the horizontal and striving for the 
perpendicular, and the next instant Nina found her- 
self dashed in a forlorn heap at the foot of a large 
deck compass. 

Captain Fordyce sprang to her aid, and, as he 
picked her up, put her cap on her curls again, with 
the words, ‘‘ Poor child, have you hurt yourself ? ” 

Nina gave him a faint, “ No.” Drawing her now 


WE ARE PROGRESSING. 


103 


unresisting arm through his own, he walked down 
the long decks, clean and wet from a recent scrub- 
bing, past the bridge and the portion of the ship 
allotted to the second cabin passengers. When they 
came to the steerage quarters, Nina turned away her 
head to avoid a puff of hot air that swept up the 
narrow opening. A pale-faced woman with a baby 
in her arms struggled on deck. She unwittingly 
crossed the dividing line between her portion of the 
ship and that belonging to the richer, more favoured 
class. 

Captain Fordyce’s eyes rested on her, and he 
nodded slightly to one of the ship’s officers who 
happened to be passing. It did not escape Nina. 
She saw the woman sent back, and pitied the weary 
look on her face, as she quietly retraced her steps. 

Please let me speak to her for a moment,” she 
said to her companion. 

He released her, and hurrying back she put her 
hand in her pocket. There was no money there. 
She had left her purse in her room. She drew a 
little gay silk handkerchief from the breast of her 
coat, and, pressing it between the woman’s thin fin- 
gers, told her to twist it around the baby’s neck. 

The woman’s white lips murmured a blessing, and, 
with tears in her eyes, Nina turned toward the prow 


104 


HER SAILOR. 


of the ship. Had she incurred the Grand Turk’s 
displeasure } and she anxiously scanned his face as 
he guided her steps over a huge anchor lying on the 
deck. 

It softened perceptibly. Order must be main- 
tained on a ship, Nina, or everything would run to 
confusion. We could not have all the different 
classes of passengers scrambling about together.” 

*‘Of course not, but you might have spoken to 
that poor woman yourself.” 

^‘That would not be ship etiquette, and, more- 
over, you must remember that a man who has 
knocked about the world as much as I have cannot 
be expected to have the sensibilities of a boarding- 
school miss.” 

“ That is no excuse,” she said, rebukingly. “ One 
person is as good as another. You ought to be as 
kind to that woman as you are to me. Whether you 
feel like it or not — ” Then a thought of her own 
shortcomings brought her to a sudden stop. 

You little prig, I am not as hard-hearted as you 
think. I am sorry for that woman, but what can I 
do } Money it would not be wise to give her, sym- 
pathy I cannot express as you did just now. Don’t 
you see,” eagerly, “that is just what I want you for, 
or, rather, one of the things I want you for. A kind- 


WE ARE PROGRESSING. 105 

hearted, charitable little wife, what a help she would 
be to me ! ” 

Nina made no reply, and, holding out a hand, he 
assisted her in clambering to the bow of the ship, 
immediately over the figured maiden who stood 
night and day with hands clasped on her breast, and 
the cold waves lapping her bare, white feet. 

A sense of exultation came over the girl as they 
went down to the depths and then seemed to rise to 
the sky. The wind cut her face like a scourge, and 
the salt spray dashed high over her head ; but with 
her eye embracing the boundless expanse, she felt 
that she could stand for ever gazing at the angry 
waste of waters. She had even begun to con over 
all the sea-poetry that she could remember, when 
her mind was recalled to her present surroundings 
by hearing the man at her side say, ‘‘ Why did you 
not put on that pretty red cloak this morning ” 

She turned rebukingly around. He was looking 
at her with his usual air of calm proprietorship. She 
could do nothing with him. He would not be formal. 
He would not be indifferent. And there was no one 
in sight. The decks were as desolate as the sea. 

** There are disagreeable, exceedingly disagreeable 
memories connected with that cloak now,” she said, 
haughtily. 


I06 HER SAILOR, 

“ Specify the memories, birdie.” 

She would not gratify him, and he went on, softly, 
“ Memories of home and affection ; and there are so 
many lonely people in the world.” 

She would not answer him. Her eyes were per- 
sistently fixed on the distracted waves, torn and buf- 
feted, and hurled from the embrace of the strange 
white maiden crossing their path. 

He changed his tone. “You are in a temper, 
birdie, your eyes are glittering, and there are angry 
dashes of red in your cheeks, and you are trembling 
like a little, frightened dove, or a very successful 
young actress. Which is it, — dove or actress ? ” 

She burst out upon him with a question. “ What 
are you running about the ship for, telling everybody 
that I am your wife ? ” 

He suppressed his astonishment, and for some 
time contemplated her in silence. Then he asked 
in a low voice, for some emigrant children had sud- 
denly appeared near them, clambering over the anchor 
and tumbling over each other, “ Nina, what do you 
suppose was the last thought in my mind when I 
turned into my berth at one this morning ? ” 

“ I don’t know — I don’t care to know,” she said, 
warningly. 

“ I thought, ‘ My little girl is down below.* When 


WE ARE PROGRESSING. IO7 

you look out at this,” and he waved his hand toward 
the vast surging expanse beyond, ‘‘and realise the 
awful loneliness of it, you can in part imagine what 
that thought was to me.” 

Nina shuddered, and uttered a feeble, “ Don’t ! ” 

“Other men have homes, wives, children,” he went 
on, in the same peculiar voice ; “ ordinarily, I have 
nothing.” 

“You have me,” she said, wildly, “’Steban, don’t 
talk so.” 

He put up a hand to check her increasing tones. 
“You,” he murmured, “what are you.? A sight, 
a glimpse, a breath, — an unsubstantial nothing. Are 
you not planning to leave me in a few days .? ” 

“I will come back. I will surely come back.” 

“You will never come back. There are other 
men in the world. You will fall in love with one 
of them and forget me.” 

“ I shall not forget you,” she said, passionately. 

The children heard her and stared, but this time 
her husband did not repress her. He could not 
afford to lose one glimpse into the girlish soul 
unfolding so surely. 

“Nina,” he said, quietly, “perhaps I ought to 
release you. It is only a question of a few years,” 
and he nodded toward the ocean ; “ it is always wait- 


io8 


HER SAILOR. 


ing. I shall be swallowed up some time. Then you 
can be happy with some other man.” 

He had not frightened her. He had gone too far, 
and her suddenly pale face resumed its natural 
colour. It is not like you to give things up,’ ’ she 
said, simply, ‘‘and I believe you will outlive me, 
but — ” 

“ But what } ” he asked, eagerly. 

“ But I wish you would not talk in that way,” she 
said, composedly. 

“In what way ^ ” 

“ About dying — and other men.” 

“Why not.?” 

“It is too much of a pleasure to me,” she said, 
roguishly. “ It suggests things that will never 
happen.” 

He smiled happily. He, in his turn, could not be 
deceived. She had grown white ; she had been 
frightened ; she had swept with one terrified glance 
the hungry ocean, and with another loving, faithful 
one his expectant face. He had seen in her eyes 
the expression he wished to cultivate, and he laughed 
aloud in his content. 

“ Oh, you are so provoking,” she said, biting her 
lip. “You will not stay where I put you. You 
are so aggressive. You promised everything last 


WE ARE PROGRESSING. 


109 

evening ; this morning you are detestable. We are 
just where we were before.” 

Softly, darling, those children are gaping, and 
we are not standing still. We are progressing.” 

« Progressing — progressing ; we are going back ! ” 
she said, impatiently. 

Give me your hand,” he said, abruptly, we will 
have a run to restore your good-humour.” 

Swiftly he rushed her down the long decks, till, 
panting and breathless, they leaned against a door, 
and she echoed his recent laughter. She could not 
help it. His drooping head and hand on his heart 
were so irresistibly comical, and in such amusing 
contrast to his usually dignified deportment. 

“That’s good,” he remarked, approvingly; “it is 
worth a kingdom to see your face light up in that 
way. Now will it please your ladyship to continue 
merry and to have some breakfast ” 

Nina followed him to the dining-saloon. On enter- 
ing it he said: “No ladies this morning; just what 
I predicted. Mrs. Grayley is not. Lady Forrest is 
not, only a handful of men at the table. So if you 
open your obstinate little mouth you will have to 
talk to me. Red Riding Hood.” 

Nina silently took her place with Captain Evers- 
leigh opposite her, and Mr. Delessert next her. 


1 10 


HER SAILOR. 


She would feel very lonely without any members of 
her own sex, and as for the staring eyes of that 
red lobster, Sir Hervey Forrest, she would not meet 
them. So she shyly kept her head bent over her 
plate until forced to lift it by the prolonged catas- 
trophe of breakfast. 

The heavy pitching of the Merrimac caused the 
dishes to slide gracefully from one end of the table 
to the other. However, by way of change, the ship 
occasionally abandoned the rising and falling motion, 
and, taking a sudden and unexpected roll, caused a 
number of the articles on the table to jump franti- 
cally over the guards and precipitate themselves into 
the passengers’ laps. 

When Captain Eversleigh received fair in the 
chest a loaf of bread that sent his eye-glass dash- 
ing through the air and thoroughly upset his usual 
British equanimity, Nina gave vent to her feelings 
of amusement by indulging in a burst of uncon- 
trollable girlish laughter. 

The subject of her amusement glanced benevo- 
lently at her, and the other semi-seasick, preoccupied, 
and grumbling men at the table listened apprecia- 
tively to the sound of the fresh, clear young voice, 
some of them even joining in with her. 

Captain Fordyce looked on, well pleased to have 


JV£ ARE PROGRESSING. 


Ill 


her admired, but suddenly exclaimed : “ Take carCy 
Nina Stephana ! ” 

Two cruet-stands came clattering down from the 
rack overhead, and, spinning about quick and more 
quick in giddy gyres,'’ shed at last ruin and desola- 
tion over Mr. Delessert and herself. 

In spite of receiving half the contents of a bottle 
of sauce on his black head, Mr. Delessert looked 
inquiringly at her through the dark brown streams of 
the condiment pouring down each side of his Grecian 
nose. 

‘‘A saucy stare,” muttered Captain Fordyce, while 
Nina, on whom his utterance of her Christian name 
had made no impression, answered her neighbour’s 
incredulous and, to her, incomprehensible glance by a 
suppressed laugh, as she slipped from her seat to 
follow his example of retiring to perform necessary 
ablutions. 

‘‘You are only a trifle devastated,” said Captain 
Fordyce, rising too, and taking one napkin after 
another that his servant hastily handed him to whisk 
off her shoulders. “You need not go away. Your 
gown is not injured.” 

Nina dropped into her seat again, and continued 
her occupation of rolling her brown eyes around the 
room. The skylights were closed, the canaries were 


2 


HER SAILOR. 


mute, and as breakfast progressed the agitation of 
the Merrimac increased. The wind whistled outside, 
every timber in the ship creaked in response. Col- 
lisions between the stewards were of frequent oc- 
currence, with the result of black forms in brass 
buttons stretched forlornly on the floor, reaching 
out helpless arms toward their late burdens, that 
slipped aggravatingly under the tables and chairs 
and into the most obscure holes and corners of the 
room. 

Two of the swinging lamps fell with a crash, and 
from a distant pantry came at intervals such loud 
reports of smashing dishes that Captain Fordyce 
began to frown in a heavy, displeased way. 

The absurdity of his annoyance seemed so evident 
to Nina that she went off into another fit of laughter, 
in which he partially joined, while the quaking stew- 
ards threw her glances of gratitude. 

After breakfast Captain Fordyce remarked, regret- 
fully, “ I am going to be busy, but I can provide 
occupation for you. Will you go and console Miss 
Marsden } ” 

Nina hung back. “ I don’t want to. She is 
probably some fashionable girl.” 

‘‘ I’ll wager there isn’t a society item in her head 
now. Come and see her,” and, seizing her gently 


WE ARE PROGRESSING. II3 

resisting hand, he assisted her down the passage to a 
room not far from her own. 

Nina with concealed awe stood before the tall, 
handsome Boston girl. Then, seeing that she was 
suffering, she lost all dread of her, and proceeded to 
administer consolation in a characteristic way that 
made Captain Fordyce swing himself off to his own 
concerns in deep inward satisfaction. 

How dear she was to him ! She would never 
know, never until she was older and had more sense. 
It was a misfortune that she was so young : and yet 
was it a misfortune } He did not regret it in some 
ways, and her girlish form danced before him over 
the deck, up the ladder, and across the bridge. Al- 
ways there, never absent from him. Her name was 
written on the sky, the sea-birds shrieked Nina ! ” 
He had scarcely a thought that was not in some way 
mixed up with her, his heart’s darling, the life of his 
life ; his face shone with so telltale and radiant a 
light that the first officer turned on his heel and 
walked away lest he should be suspected of spying 
on his superior in command. However, as he walked 
he muttered with amused revenge, “ There’s no fool 
like an old fool except a middle-aged fool.” 

At noon the sea was still rough, the public rooms 
were deserted, and the staterooms full. But when 


14 


HER SAILOR. 


the lunch bell rang, Nina demurely appeared, bring- 
ing with her a fresh, unruffled appearance, and, 
probably, her usual excellent appetite. 

But there was something the matter with her, for 
when her husband rose from his seat with a relieved 
air and said, “ I was afraid you were going to fail 
us,” she sat down without noticing him. 

“May I give you some beef.?” he went on, po- 
litely. 

“No, thanks,” she said, briefly, “I wish some 
tongue,” and she glanced toward her right-hand 
neighbour, who immediately began to cut her thin 
slices. 

Captain Fordyce frowned, and Nina, being quite 
well aware of it, wrinkled her own forehead in dis- 
pleasure. He was the most jealous, tyrannical man 
ever created, and even the small matter of refusing 
to be served by him was sufficient to throw him in 
a temper. Yet there were sins worse than jealousy. 
Pray Heaven he was not guilty of them. Was he — 
could it be .? What had Mr. Delessert meant by the 
few mysterious words he had spoken to her an hour 
previously .? Her pretty face grew cold and hard as 
she calmly partook of a meal for which she had 
suddenly lost her appetite. 

Captain Fordyce, reading her mind with his usual 


WE ARE PROGRESSING. 


II5 

skill, though apparently he did not once look her 
way, was angry and uneasy. Some kind of an under- 
standing existed between that tailor’s masterpiece 
and his shy New England wild flower. He saw it 
in the few words they addressed to each other, 
although the man was a model of reticent propriety, 
and the girl was cool and almost repellent in her 
remarks to him. 

He listened to a question from the young man. 

Are you going to venture on deck this afternoon } ” 

Nina politely but frigidly informed him that she 
did not know. 

The sea is not calm yet,” he observed, smoothly, 
<‘you had better have an escort.” 

‘‘ Mrs. Fordyce is going up on the bridge with me,” 
observed the man at the head of the table, calmly 
surveying them both over his coffee-cup. 

Nina remained severely non-committal until lunch 
was over, and her husband requested her to go and 
put on a warm jacket, and meet him by the large 
lamp outside the library. 

Then she made a gesture of dissent. Her impulse 
was to do nothing of the kind. To be disposed of in 
this arbitrary fashion was irritating to the last degree, 
especially in view of the partial and exciting revela- 
tions made to her by the young man of fascinatmg 


HER SAILOR. 


I l6 

manners. She had better shut herself up in her 
room for the rest of the day. But it was so small 
and so dreary, and these new thoughts would be so 
teasing. Perhaps she could force that delinquent 
'Steban into some admissions if she were to skilfully 
question him. And the invariable presence of one of 
the officers on the bridge would keep him from annoy- 
ing her with any lover-like nonsense ; so with a sigh 
she relented, donned a heavy jacket, pulled a tight- 
fitting cap over her brown head, and obediently made 
her way in the direction of the big lamp. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


BEWARE THE FURY OF A PATIENT MAID. 

The fresh air was delicious after the confined at- 
mosphere below ; and while Captain Fordyce was 
helping Nina up the bridge ladder, she saw with joy 
that her unconscious ally had not failed her, — the 
first officer was at his post. 

She got up on a high seat where she could look 
far out over the great waves plunging and tossing 
about in their rough sport. For half an hour she 
was left to her own devices ; and she almost forgot 
her tribulations in watching the fleet porpoises tear- 
ing through the water in their headlong career, and 
occasional shoals of whales blowing in the distance. 
There were sea-gulls, too. The murky background 
of the sky threw out in bold relief the dazzling white- 
ness of their wings as they gracefully circled about 
the ship, and while watching their frequent darting 
movements she repeated half-aloud a quotation from 
one of her well-thumbed school-books : 


17 


ii8 


HER SAILOR, 


« ‘ The silver-winged sea-fowl on high 
Like meteors bespangle the sky, 

Or dive in the gulf, or triumphantly ride 

Like foam on the surges, the swans of the tide.’ ” 

What are you saying ? ” asked Captain Fordyce, 
coming to her end of the bridge. 

She shook her head obstinately. 

‘‘ Ah ! you will not repeat it, and that reminds 
me : I have forgotten to make an apology for bring- 
ing you up here against your will.” 

She pressed her lips together, and from her high 
seat looked over his shoulder at the first officer, who 
was pacing up and down the bridge before them. 

Captain Fordyce went on, in a lower voice : “ I 
wanted to get you away from that man Delessert’s 
attentions. There is something about him that I do 
not like.” 

‘‘ You are suspicious,” she retorted, coldly ; “ you 
have no right to assume so much authority over my 
movements.” 

The first officer was at the other end of the bridge 
now, standing with his back to them, his attention 
fully concentrated on a distant ship. Nina wished 
earnestly that her last remark could be recalled, for 
it had transformed her husband into an ardent and 
determined lover. 


THE FURY OF A PATIENT MAID. 1 19 

No right ! I have the best right in the world. 
When I see you putting your fingers in the fire, you 
foolish girl, I shall be the first to pull them out.” 

Nina was overawed, yet not totally subdued ; and 
leaning forward, she saucily whispered a few words 
in the vicinity of his forehead : My fingers are my 
own. If I choose to burn them it is none of your 
business.” 

His black eyes met hers with a masterful light. 
‘‘Try it, darling, and see; those fingers are mine;” 
and lightly touching them as he spoke, he went 
tramping away. 

Nina shrugged her shoulders. It had come to the 
worst. He would not for an instant allow her to 
forget the hateful fetter that bound her to him. 
Their marriage, instead of being dropped, forgotten, 
no marriage at all, was to be made an excuse for the 
vilest tyranny. Oh, how angry she was \ and she 
glared indignantly down at his collected face, for he 
had again approached and was saying something to 
her. She pulled herself together to hear it. 

“ I have ordered tea in the chart-room for you at 
eight bells. You will come, will you.?” 

“ Not if it is to be a tea with you alone.” 

He favoured her with a half-amused half-impatient 
shrug of his broad shoulders ; then, after saying. 


120 


HER SAILOR. 


''You flatter yourself, such a thought never came 
into my head,” he went away. 

Not until the sweet-toned bell on the quarter-deck 
rang out eight strokes did he approach her again. 
" It is four o’clock now,” he said, lifting her down 
from her high seat. 

They descended to the deck, and he told his ser- 
vant, who was waiting for him, to go and ask Mrs. 
Grayley and Captain Eversleigh whether they would 
give him the pleasure of their company to tea in the 
chart-room. Then with a brief, " Are you satisfied } ” 
he went up the steps and opened the door for her. 

Nina followed him slowly and sat down on a stool 
in the corner. 

" Will you have the kindness to take a seat farther 
away from me 1 ” she said, when he turned his steps 
toward a stool next her own. But the request came 
too late ; he had already seated himself. 

" Nina,” he said, resting an arm on his knee, and 
deliberately stroking his heavy moustache while he 
bent forward to obtain a complete view of her, "to 
hear you talk at times, and to watch your actions, 
one would imagine that you hate me. I have been 
hoping that, since that ceremony two days ago, you 
would be different.” 

" So I do hate you,’" she cried, pushing his black 


THE FURY OF A PATIENT MAID. 


I2I 


coat sleeve aside. “ I hate any man, who, forgetting 
that he is the natural protector of woman, becomes 
her persecutor.” 

Then, with a passing thought that this was an 
uncommonly neat speech for a tyro, she launched 
herself fully on a tide of abuse. 

She informed him that she was burdened by the 
grievances of a lifetime, that she was essentially 
practical and matter-of-fact, and that she hated a 
mystery as she hated sin. She had through long, 
long years chafed against the galling chain of cir- 
cumstances that bound her to him. It was an insult 
to her, a creature with a will and judgment of her 
own, to have been born a slave, to have no means of 
freeing herself. 

By some means or other you got me into your 
power,” she uttered, in a voice of quiet, concentrated 
scorn ; you have tyrannised over me, married me, 
and in addition to this cowardly act, you have evaded 
your promises. You are a — ” 

She brought her goadings to an abrupt stop, for, 
with his dark face absolutely purple from some emo- 
tion, he had suddenly got up, turned his back on 
her, and was looking out the window. 

She had made him angry. In a minute he would 
be demanding an apology for the plain language she 


122 


HER SAILOR. 


had just uttered. Well, she was in for his displeasure 
now. She might as well free her mind of every bit 
of dissatisfaction, every demand for the future lurking 
in it. 

“ It is all true,’' she said, sullenly ; ‘‘ and I won’t 
take it back, not a word of it. You would be a far 
better man to-day, if everybody had told you the 
truth about yourself as faithfully as I have done. I 
am not half as much afraid of you as — as those peo- 
ple you call my parents were. Heaven only knows,” 
desperately, “how you bewitched them, and made 
them take charge of me. And you have brought me 
on this voyage to make me fall in love with you, and 
strengthen your claim to me ; but I won’t, I won’t, 
I won’t.” 

She was not shrieking as she usually did in her 
childish fits of temper. She was progressing, yes, 
certainly progressing, and the man at the window 
wearily shrugged his shoulders. This was a more 
womanly rage. He preferred the childish one. It 
was more abusive, but not so taunting, so stinging. 

Nina, exhausted and trembling as she never before 
had been after an explosion of wrath, had sunk back 
on her stool. She had won a victory. She had 
made him angry, and he would not trouble her again 
for some time. She wondered how angry he was. 


THE FURY OF A PATIENT MAID. 12^ 

He could not go into a temper one minute and out 
of it the next as she could. Now if his resentment 
would only last until they got to England — 

Just at that moment the not unusual sight of a 
pocket-handkerchief caused an entire revulsion of 
feeling in her quarrelsome breast. It was one with 
“Esteban Fordyce” stamped in one corner, and it 
lay on the table before her. It was beautifully white 
and clean, but so coarse, so very coarse. She drew 
hers from her pocket, — a tiny perfumed piece of 
muslin, with an edging of valuable lace. What a 
contrast ! She spread it over as much of her face 
as it would cover, and began to cry stealthily. In a 
minute it was drenched. She threw it under the 
table, and took up the other more substantial one. 

She was grieving very quietly ; still the man at the 
window must hear her, yet he said never a word. 
Well, she had called him a coward, and a man does 
not like to hear that word even from the lips he 
loves best. 

“ ’Steban,” she said, after a time, in a very low and 
miserable voice, “if I said anything to hurt your 
feelings, I am sorry for it.” 

Still he did not turn his face to her, and she 
began to wonder whether she had been a right- 
eously indignant victim or a base ingrate. Despite 


124 SAILOR. 

her slavery, she had certainly been well, nay, hand- 
somely, treated. Her health, morals, and education 
had received enough attention to make them perfect. 
She had had articles of luxury that the mother of 
her adoption had frequently protested against as 
being better fitted for royalty than for a young 
person in her station of life ; and — sharpest pang 
of all — to procure all this, the man before her had 
had to undergo not only the frightful loneliness of 
which he had spoken in the morning, but also toils, 
privations, risk of life. The thought was maddening, 
and she sprang from her seat and went boldly up 
to him. 

’Steban,” she said, with a plaintive sob, I am 
ashamed of myself. Will you forgive me } ” 

He twisted his head away and tried to evade her, 
but she was resolute. She mounted a chair, leaned 
one hand on his shoulder, that was quivering with 
impatience, or restlessness, or wrath, or perhaps all 
three, and, bending forward, gazed curiously into his 
face. 

One look was enough, for he was quietly and 
enjoyably laughing at her. She was about to get 
down, to beat an ignominious retreat to her own 
room, when he seized her with a murmured, “You 
small Amazon, I will talk to you by and by.” He 


THE FURY OF A PATIENT MAID. I25 

carried her across the room. There is some one 
coming — sit there,” he said, putting her in a chair. 
Then, with an impassive face, he held open the door. 

Captain Eversleigh was just entering. He threw 
the flushed, panting girl a surprised glance, then 
picked up her cap that had fallen off during one 
of her bursts of eloquence. This did not add to 
her composure, and she intently studied the pattern 
of the carpet, until the entrance of Merdyce with 
a tray effected a diversion. Mrs. Grayley was too 
ill to appear, so it devolved upon her to pour out 
the tea. 

The fear that the two men, though apparently 
quite taken up with each other, — Captain Evers- 
leigh in uttering a flow of small talk, and Captain 
Fordyce in listening, — were in reality watching her, 
made her hand tremble as she put the sugar into 
the fragile cups with the butterfly handles. Sud- 
denly and awkwardly she let the sugar-tongs fall 
into the cream-pitcher. 

Captain Eversleigh was so near that the white 
fluid splashed over the front of his dark coat. She 
knew by the quick glance he cast her from under 
his light eyelashes that he thought she did it on 
purpose. This, together with her recent agitation, 
quite took away her remnant of fortitude, and she 


126 


HER SAILOR. 


burst into a hysterical, Bacchante laugh. For 
politeness’ sake her companions tried to join her, 
but their share of the merriment was forced, 
and soon languished and died. 

In her anxiety to get away, it appeared to her 
that they would never stop drinking tea. Captain 
Eversleigh’s potations seemed to her — a girl unac- 
customed to the habitual drinking of tea between 
meals — to be positively alarming, and she ventured 
a faint glance of remonstrance as he passed his cup 
for the fourth time. 

“ You make tea marvellously well, Mrs. Fordyce,” 
he said, in a high-pitched, cheery voice ; but I shall 
not be inconsiderate enough to trouble you again. 
I see by the way you survey the teapot that we 
are boring you to death,” and, with deliberate haste, 
he finished at the same time his cup of tea and his 
discussion of English politics with Captain Fordyce. 
Then he took his leave, arid Nina was about to glide 
after him, when her husband detained her. 


CHAPTER IX. 


SINCE YOU REFUSE, I THREATEN. 

“ Sit down, Nina,” he said, I want to ask you 
something.” 

‘‘What is it.?” she inquired. Her elevation of 
spirit was all gone, and with it her ecstasy of resent- 
ment and rebuke. All that she was conscious of 
now was the helpless feeling that he was immensely 
clever at ferreting out her inmost thoughts. Her 
fears were justified by his first question. 

“ Who has been talking to you about me ? ” 

“Nobody,” she said, feebly. 

“ It was that fellow, Delessert. What did he 
say .? ” 

Nina’s red lips immediately exhorted each other 
to wise silence by a strong and mutual pressure. 

Captain Fordyce saw it, and although he had no 
conception of the innuendoes suggested to her, he 
immediately resolved to find some clue for his imag- 
ination to work upon. 


127 


128 


HER SAILOR. 


I know what it was,” he said, with determination ; 
‘‘any information from you will only second what 
I possess already.” 

The lips flew open with an eager, “ How do you 
know ? ” 

“Don’t you suppose I see and hear a good deal 
in going about this steamer ? ” 

“ But you couldn’t have heard this morning,” she 
said, cunningly, “ because he asked me to come away 
from the deck cabins, and there wasn’t a soul in the 
music-room. So how could you hear } ” 

“ Does he not talk to other people } ” 

“ No,” she said, promptly. “ He said he wouldn’t 
for the world. You’re just pretending you’ve heard 
things.” 

Captain Fordyce immediately abandoned this set 
of tactics for another. “ I should think,” he said, 
gravely, “that a wife’s sense of honour would pre- 
vent her from listening to insinuations against her 
husband.” 

A deeper cloud overshadowed her mobile face. 
“That’s just the trouble, ’Steban. He hinted and 
suggested. If he had said things right out, wouldn’t 
I have been mad with him ! ” 

“ What were the insinuations ? ” 

“ There — I’ve been telling you,*’ she said, peni- 


SINCE YOU REFUSE, I THREATEN 1 29 

tently, “and I said I wouldn’t. I sha’n’t say another 
word.” 

Her husband apparently made a like resolve, for 
he, too, sat speechless. How long was he going to 
keep her.? and she restlessly drew out her watch, 
then made a motion as if to rise. A hand, how- 
ever, was extended before her. She must sit there 
until she made further revelations. “ I will not,” 
she determined, obstinately ; but not a minute 
later a new thought entered her variable mind, 
and she made a slight movement indicative of curi- 
osity. 

She wisely waited, and after a time she said, 
hesitatingly, “ ’Steban — ” 

“Nina — ” 

She was nervously playing with his handkerchief, 
and, as if it supplied a suggestion, she raised her 
head. “ Why do I have a fine handkerchief and you 
a coarse one .? ” 

“ There you are grappling with one of the heavy 
problems of life.” 

“ Have I any right to a fine one .? Was I born 
to anything better than you .? ” she went on, in the 
same tentative manner. 

A light broke over him, of which, however, no 
external flashes appeared. “That fool belongs to 


130 


HER SAILOR. 


her father’s gang/’ he scornfully reflected; ‘‘he 
has been asked to watch me, and suspects who 
she is. His game is to make her think she is be- 
ing kept out of something, so she will join them. 
Well, my man, we shall see what we shall see.” 
Aloud he remarked, “Apparently, you may lay a 
just claim to more purple and fine linen than I 
possess.” 

“ Could you have it if you wished it } Would 
it be your right, or have I really more claim to 
things .? ” she urged. “ Do not mind telling me, I 
would not care even — even if you had made some 
mistakes.” 

“ What kind of mistakes } ” 

“Well — I don’t know. Errors in judgment, we 
will say.” 

“ An error in judgment, like a poor man kidnap- 
ping a baby heiress, we will say.” 

“You are making fun of me,” she said, faintly; 
but her face was crimson and he knew he was on 
the right track. 

“And marrying her,” he continued, “and then the 
sharp young heiress found him out.” 

“ And forgave him,” she said, quickly. “ Don’t 
forget that, ’Steban. She was cross at first, but she 
forgave him.” 


SINCE YOU REFUSE, I THREATEN 131 

“ Why did she forgive him, Nina ? and he lowered 
his voice and his black head at the same time until 
he was within an inch of her face. 

She drew back stiffly. Because she had promised 
solemnly to stand by him.’^ 

‘‘When did she promise to stand by him ? ’" he 
continued. 

“ When she married him ; but he was hateful to 
her, and mysterious, and would not tell her things — 
’Steban, whose child am I ? 

“ It is almost dinner-time,” he observed, blandly. 
“ You would do well to go and comb out that tousled, 
brown thicket.” 

“ I know that Mrs. Danvers is not my mother,” 
she said, intensely. “ It is cruel to keep me in sus- 
pense. Is my mother living, ’Steban ? ” 

“ No,” he growled. 

“ Was she like Mrs. Danvers ? ” 

“ No, — she was an angel.” 

“ And my father, ’Steban } ” 

“ What is the matter with Mr. Danvers ? ” 

“He is not my father, — who is ” 

“ I don’t know anything about him,” and he reso- 
lutely turned his back on her. 

She pursued him with questions, but he was deaf 
to them ; at last, however, suddenly wheeling around 


132 


HER SAILOR. 


with one himself, “ How did you find out about 
Mrs. Danvers ? ” 

It was one day a month ago,*' said the girl, in a 
low voice. 

But how ? ” 

It was on account of Mr. Danvers.” 

He was always doing some fool thing, — what 
was this one ? ” 

** He gave me a present.” 

‘‘ What was it } ” 

** A ring.” 

Didn’t he give his wife anything ? ” 

Oh, yes, — a book. He had been to Boston and 
he thought he would please us so much. It was piti- 
ful. He saw she was annoyed, but he didn’t know 
what it was about, and went out of the room.” 

‘‘ And she pitched into you.” 

“ Yes, she said you would be angry with him for 
giving me such handsome presents, and I thought 
what a strange thing for a mother to say ; then it 
came over me like a flash, — ‘ This woman isn’t my 
mother.’ ” 

“ Did you tell her ? ” 

‘‘No, I ran up-stairs.” 

“And cried.” 


“And cried, ’Steban.” 


SINCE YOU REFUSE, I THREATEN. 1 33 

“ How did you feel ? ” he asked, curiously. 

How did I feel ? ” she repeated, musingly. I 
felt, just for one dreadful minute, sick and faint and 
dizzy. It seemed as if the whole world were tum- 
bling to pieces. Of course she had been jealous be- 
fore, but in such little ways that I didn’t mind. 
This was such bad jealousy that it staggered me. I 
thought, *■ Is this my own mother } ’ Then when it 
came over me that she wasn’t, I didn’t care so much. 
I suppose own mothers are never jealous ” 

** Sometimes they are,” he muttered. 

Nina drew a long breath. ‘‘Then a home like 
this must be a purgatory.” 

<‘I could tell you stories,” he said, hurriedly, ‘‘but 
pshaw ! — you haven’t the nerve. I will not hasten 
your knowledge of the ugly secrets of life. I sup- 
pose, child, you would have been glad to see me 
walking in just then ? ” 

“ I put your picture on the pillow,” she said, fer- 
vently ; “ I built a little fort of handkerchiefs around 
it, all but the eyes, to keep the tears off — ” 

She broke off, for his black, scintillating eyes were 
bent on her with the expression that she did not 
like. “ I had only you to turn to,” she said, coldly. 
“Will you tell me some more about my real par- 
ents 


134 


HER SAILOR. 


No, dear crybaby.” 

'‘Then I shall apply to that young man.” 

“Very well, apply to him — and regret it.” 

“ He is very handsome,” she said, aggravatingly. 
“Very.” 

“ And young.” 

“ Quite a baby like yourself.” 

“ I like him,” she said, tauntingly. 

“ But you would not cry over his photograph.” 

She sprang up, opened her mouth to make a re- 
sponse, thought better of it, and, with a threatening 
frown, ran down the steps to the deck. 


CHAPTER X. 


A girl’s will is the wind’s will. 

At dinner-time the man in command of the Merri- 
mac was by no means jealous, although Nina had no 
words nor looks for him. For she was not happy in 
ignoring him. He knew it, — felt it in every fibre 
of his being. 

What a little beauty she was, with her light head 
and her fascinating manner, — so lively with him, so 
quiet and guarded with strangers ! He was madly in 
love with her now, just like a young fool of a fellow. 
Extravagant terms of adoration floated through his 
mind, and, with the ardency of twenty, he longed for 
the time to come when he would be permitted to 
utter them. 

. He had loved her for years, but not like this. He 
had kept her in a secret chamber of his heart, ready 
to be brought out for contemplation and admiration 
when he had a moment’s leisure ; but now that 
she was with him in propria persona^ lawfully and 
irrevocably united to him, he was never free from 
135 


HER SAILOR. 


136 

her bewildering presence, — never for one instant. 
Sleeping, waking, following the exacting demands of 
his duty, her teasing, roguish face was ever before 
him ; her light eyes gazed steadily into his dark 
ones ; he was haunted by the ringing words, ** Mine, 
mine, yet not mine.” 

It was balm to his soul that she did not like the 
exquisite Delessert. “Probably sees he hasn’t as 
much brains as I have,” he communed comfortably 
with himself, “and has taken a grudge against him 
on account of my warning, although she is too 
obstinate to acknowledge it. Her attention has 
left him now, — gone wandering off to the birds 
and flowers. What is she pondering, I wonder.? 
Some of the deep, unutterable thoughts of girlhood, 
that she neither could nor would utter. 

“The young coxcomb had better take care,” he 
went on to himself, “ or he will get a setback. She 
has been strictly brought up, my young man, and 
will resent any familiarity even if the slightest ; ” 
and he dropped his exultant eyes to the table-cloth, 
as Nina quietly and decidedly rebuked her neighbour 
by a gesture when he offered her the polite and 
harmless civility of paring a refractory orange. 

“You have done for yourself this time, my man,” 
pursued Captain Fordyce, with satisfaction, as Nina 


A GIRVS WILL IS THE WIND’S WILL. 1 37 

left her place, and, steadying herself by means of 
outstretched hands laid against the swaying walls 
and dodging chairs, skilfully piloted herself from the 
room. She said nothing to her husband as she 
passed him ; but he looked over his shoulder and 
correctly guessed her destination to be Miss Marsden’s 
room. 

Before knocking at the door she paused, and 
pressed her face against the cold glass of the port- 
hole beside it. A sweet and regretful wish for her 
home came over her. She would like to be with 
her parents, — no, not her parents, — the two people 
whom she considered to be her parents. They were 
very dear to her. She would never forget them, 
never. ’Steban must take her back to them very 
soon. 

She started as she heard her name pronounced in 
a singularly pleasing voice, and, turning around, saw 
that Mr. Delessert was standing beside her. 

fear I have offended you in some way,” he 
said, in a contrite tone. 

“Oh, no, you did not offend me,” she said, shyly. 
“That is, not much.” 

“ I am glad you are not deeply incensed,” he went 
on, with a relieved air. “ It emboldens me to ask a 
great favour of you.” 


138 


HER SAILOR, 


Although Nina gave him no encouragement be- 
yond an attentive silence, he went on, it your 
intention to spend the evening with Miss Marsden ? 

Nina was surprised at his knowledge of the name 
and habitation of a person who had not yet made 
a public appearance ; but she said, graciously, Yes, 
if she wants me.” 

“ If she does not, will you come to the library and 
play whist } Mrs. Grayley is much better. She 
wished me to ask you.” 

** I don’t know how to play.” 

There were signs of a baffled purpose on his face 
rather than of disappointment. After some reflec- 
tion, he said, Perhaps you would like to go and 
walk on deck.” 

‘‘ Captain Fordyce asked me not to go up again 
to-night. The decks are so shaky.” 

He extended a shapely white hand. Good night, 
then. I must not detain you. Perhaps to-morrow 
you will allow me the pleasure of teaching you how 
to play cards ” 

‘‘I don’t think I want to know,” she said, seri- 
ously ; “ they do lots of harm ; but I’ll teach you 
a very funny thing if you can find some domi- 
noes.” 

He gravely assured her that he would be charmed, 


A GIRL'S WILL IS THE WIND'S WILL. 1 39 

and was just about leaving her when he hesitated 
and turned back. I beg your pardon, but I heard 
Captain Fordyce call you by a very odd and pretty 
name.” 

What was it } ” she asked, wonderingly. 

“ Nina Stephana, or Stephanie, was it ” 

Oh ! Nina Stephana, — he sometimes says it. 
Stephana is my middle name.” 

** Indeed, it is a pleasing one. Strange that it 
should be the feminine of your husband’s name.” 

Yes,” said Nina, guardedly, ** Esteban is certainly 
the Spanish for Stephen.” 

‘*It seems as if your parents must have known 
of your approaching fate,” he remarked, mildly, and 
without emphasis. 

‘‘ Yes, doesn’t it ? ” she replied, naifvely. 

I dare say he was attracted by the similarity 
of names.” 

Nina was fidgeting with the ends of ribbon hang- 
ing from her belt. *‘See here,” she said, suddenly 
dropping them, and speaking with the utmost sim- 
plicity, “you remember what you were telling me 
this morning?” 

“ Our conversation lingers most pleasantly with 
me.” 

“ About my husband, and knowing a lady called 


140 


HER SAILOR. 


Nina who has so much money, and who lost a little 
girl, and that my husband knew her, too.” 

<< Pardon me, I don’t think I was quite so exact. 
I said he might possibly know her.” 

** Well, I must have got confused. I didn’t rightly 
understand what you said ; but anyway it made 
me feel bad and suspicious of my husband, because 
— well, never mind why — and I promised you I 
wouldn’t say anything about it lest it might hurt 
his feelings. But he is so clever he just found out, 
and I think perhaps I had better riot talk any more 
about him or about myself ; for he will tell me every- 
thing all in good time ; but I will talk of anything 
else. Is it a bargain?” and she held out a little 
frank hand. 

Just for one instant he was touched, — he, the 
hunter in search of prey. There was a relaxation 
in the mask of habitual reserve that he wore, a soft- 
ening of the faint but hard lines about the drooping 
moustache. It is a bargain, certainly,” he said, 
quietly, and he pressed the fingers confidingly en- 
trusted to him, and stood respectfuly silent as she 
nodded a gay “Good-bye” and rapped on the door 
beside her. 

Upon being bidden to enter, she went in and 
seated herself on the extreme edge of the couch 


A GIRL^S WILL IS THE WlND^S WILL. I4I 

opposite the berth where lay the tall young lady 
from Boston. 

The girl was the personification of health and 
good-humour, as she sat with lips parted, white 
teeth gleaming in a merry, childish smile, and eyes 
fixed steadily on her languid but quietly observing 
companion. However, she would not talk. She was 
not accustomed to the presence of French maids, 
and her aversion was so plainly marked that Miss 
Marsden humoured her, by saying, Marie, go for a 
walk.” 

Miss Marsden was decidedly better. She had 
ceased wishing to be thrown to the fishes, and 
had even begun to take a feeble interest in the 
affairs of persons about her. This girl seemed 
particularly entertaining to her, and Marie had 
brought her a very spicy bit of gossip, from Lady 
Forrest’s maid, with regard to the black-looking 
captain who was so domineering and unkind to this 
“preetty, preetty leetle wife,” who, in her turn, did 
not care ‘‘at all, at all,” about him. 

Miss Marsden made up her mind to set her talk- 
ing; and, in a ladylike yet determined manner, 
she was soon dragging from the unsuspecting 
Nina various particulars with regard to her past 
life. 


142 


HER SAILOR. 


The country girl was no match for the city girl, 
and speedily fell into the trap, not of direct questions, 
but of responding to roundabout and apparently 
aimless remarks. 

“ I didn’t say Captain Fordyce was thirty-eight,” 
she observed, after a time, in surprised vexation. 

Miss Marsden had found out all she wished to 
know, so she said, with a superior air, No, child, 
but what was the use of the dates you mentioned if 
I did not put them together ? I was always good at 
arithmetic at school.” 

‘‘So was I,” retorted Nina; “but I can’t make 
out how old you are.” 

“ Y ou never will. If you notice, I carefully avoid 
figures in my conversation. It will be a good rule 
for you to follow ten years hence.” 

“ Then you are ten years older than I am,” said 
Nina, pouncing upon her recommendation. 

“ Not quite, pussy-cat,” said the young lady ; “ but 
I won’t tease you any more with questions, for now 
you have found me out, and will settle down into 
New England obstinacy. What kind of passengers 
have we } Who are the most interesting ones } ” 

Nina’s eyes sparkled. “A little wee mousie and 
a big British lion.” 

“ Sir Hervey and Lady Forrest,” said Miss Mars- 


A GIRL^S WILL IS THE WIND’S WILL. 1 43 

den, coupling this information with some obtained 
from Marie. 

‘‘Yes, and a big light-haired dog with an honest 
kind of a bark.” 

“ Who is that ? ” 

“ Captain Eversleigh, a land, not a sea captain.” 

“Oh, that English officer. Marie told me about 
him. Who else is there ^ ” 

“ A tall, thin giraffe of a boy called Maybury.” 

“ Dreadful ! And the rest of the menagerie } ” 

“A very beautiful sleek creature with velvety 
eyes.” 

“ Man or woman } ” 

“ Man. I think he’s like a panther.” 

“ Beware of his tricks, then.” 

“ He’s a nice panther, — a kind, polite one. Not 
growly and ugly like a bear.” 

“ Ah, there you have got in some one I know,” 
said Miss Marsden, teasingly. 

“Bears have good qualities,” said Nina, com- 
posedly. 

“You are not in love with your husband, my 
dear,” reflected Miss Marsden; “or, if you are, you 
are so artlessly artful about it that one can’t make 
you out.” Then she said aloud, “ Will you hand me 
that bottle } I have a wretched headache.” 


144 


HER SAILOR. 


Nina at once dissolved in compassion. **Do let 
me smooth your head. Mamma says I can do it 
nicely.” 

Well, if you like, child. Why don’t you accent 
the last a in that word } ” 

I am not English, I am American,” said the girl, 
warmly. 

You need not fear ; no one will ever take you 
for an English girl,” replied her companion, as she 
brushed back the hair from her white forehead in 
order to allow Nina’s fingers to wander over it. 

You are a kind little thing,” she murmured, after 
a few minutes. 

Nina, used to the constant companionship of mem- 
bers of her own sex, had missed them sorely during 
the last three days ; and, touched by the gracefully 
uttered words, she bent down and kissed the fore- 
head she was stroking. 

A tear escaped from Miss Marsden’s eyelid. She 
put up her hand, wiped it away, and gave Nina an 
affectionate tap. 

‘‘ Miss Marsden,” said the girl, hesitatingly, and 
after some minutes of silence, ‘‘ I want to ask you 
something.” 

“Well, child, what is it.?” said her new friend, 
with patronising kindness. 


A GIRL^S WILL IS THE WIND^S WILL. 1 45 

*‘It’s about men. When they’re just married 
don’t you think they ought to tell their wives every- 
thing they know ? ” 

** Of course,” said the young lady, ironically. 

But they don’t, do they } ” 

‘‘ No ; they usually start out with a mouth full of 
lies.” 

About everything, do you mean } ” 

“ Oh, no, only some things. They wouldn't 
trouble to lie about everything.” 

“ Suppose you had a husband and he told you a 
story, what would you do .^ ” 

** I’d tell him another.” 

Nina laughed. “But suppose you couldn’t think 
of one. Don’t you think you ought to make him 
confess and repent ? ” 

“Yes, every time you found him out. But don’t 
try, my dear. They are too sharp for us. If 
you find them out in one thing they’ll try an- 
other. 

“ Men are worse than women, aren’t they } ” 

“ Incomparably worse,” said the young lady. 

« ‘ Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, 

Men were deceivers ever ; 

One foot in sea and one on shore. 

To one thing constant never.’ ” 


146 


HER SAILO/^. 


Nina was about to make a remark, but closed her 
mouth with a snap; for the French maid was just 
entering the room. She hurriedly surrendered her 
post to her, and, bidding Miss Marsden a regretful 
Good night,” ran away to her room. 


CHAPTER XL 


A REBUFF FOR ADONIS. 

The next two days were stormy. It rained 
steadily; and, prevented by the extreme roughness 
of the sea from going on deck, the passengers 
lounged about in the close atmosphere below, till, 
growing weary of the sound of their own voices, 
they lapsed into a dismal, moping condition. 

Even Nina succumbed to the general wretched- 
ness. They were crossing the track of a gale that 
was cyclonic in its tendencies; and her husband 
either could not or would not come below, not even 
for his meals or to inquire after her. 

Miss Marsden did not leave her room. Nina sat 
with her until she drove her away, when she usually 
fell into the hands of the ever-waiting Delessert. 
How strange that on the first day at sea she should 
have thought one could never get tired of staring at 
his handsome face ! Alas ! in his case, beauty soon 
grows familiar, fades in the eye, and palls upon the 
sense.” For he had nothing to sustain it, no manli- 


147 


148 


HER SAILOR. 


ness, no energy. He often reminded the girl — hor- 
ribly enough — of something without life, a waxen 
image, a marble statue, even a dead man; so per- 
fectly emotionless, so soulless did he usually appear. 
What a contrast he was to the forceful, hard-working 
man above, who did not condescend to come to see 
her! 

Nina’s conversations with the beauty tired her 
greatly : and yet she kept them up, for she had 
shrewdness enough to perceive that Adonis really 
admired her ; that he made an effort to please her 
by keeping above flattering, semi-flirting common- 
places ; and also, most potent of ally that he had 
some mysterious interest in her, connected with the 
subject of her parentage. 

True to her resolve, she would not ask him ques- 
tions with regard to this interest ; and he did not 
volunteer information except occasionally, and in the 
most delicate and blameless way. If by chance she 
left the region of the ship and referred to some 
occurrence in her former life, there would be in 
his manner a slight infusion of animation, and he 
would drop some item of slight information. Then 
she would hastily leave the subject, until her next 
lapse into forgetfulness. 

When Mrs. Grayley chose to leave the seclusion 


A REBUFF FOR ADONIS. 


149 


of her own room during the two days of imprisonment 
below, Nina was faintly amused, for the lady of 
middle age was consumed with admiration for Mr. 
Delessert. Upon her appearance he was obliged to 
put all his small graces and accomplishments on ex- 
hibition, and she fairly worried him to invent devices 
for whiling away the tedium of the long hours. 

When the weather permitted, and often when it 
did not, the piano was resorted to ; and Mr. Delessert 
was obliged to sing and play even at the risk of roll- 
ing off the stool several times during the perform- 
ance of one piece. Upon these latter occasions, Mrs. 
Grayley always clapped her lily-like hands and gaily 
assured him that never before, off the stage, had she 
seen a man fall so gracefully. 

He took her merriment not at all in good part, 
and usually wandered away. But always to come 
back ; for the other people on board, the men espe- 
cially, for some reason or other kept themselves 
severely away from him. Captain Eversleigh, who 
at first had shown a slight preference for his society, 
now, Nina noticed, never addressed him, but was 
constantly with the tall youth May bury. 

On the evening of the last day of bad weather 
Nina was in Miss Marsden’s room. 

*‘It is eleven o’clock,” that young lady at last 


150 


HER SAILOR. 


observed, ** don’t you think you would better go to 
bed ? ” 

Don’t send me away yet,” pleaded Nina ; tell 
me some more things about yourself.” 

The girl was kneeling by the lounge of her new- 
made friend ; and, lovingly throwing an arm around 
her feet, she listened to stories of wanderings in 
Europe, until another half-hour had elapsed, when 
Miss Marsden insisted upon her saying good night. 

“Shall I send Marie with you.?” she inquired, 
when Nina reluctantly approached the door. 

Nina darted a glance at the sleepy maid in the 
upper berth, shook her head and hurried from the 
room. With a light heart she trotted down the long 
passages. The Boston girl was a darling. She 
thoroughly approved of her. She was far more in- 
teresting to talk to than that faultfinding ’Steban. She 
did not miss him at all. She was glad that she had 
in some way offended him. ,She did not want to 
know what it was about. Very likely he was jealous 
of that wretched man, Delessert ; and she scowled 
at his open cabin door that she was just passing. 

A ray of light from it streamed out on the semi- 
dark passage ; and as her pattering footsteps ap- 
proached, he himself stepped out. 

Nina threw him a hasty glance as he stood in the 


A REBUFF FOR ADONIS. 


I5I 

doorway. His face was deeply flushed and he was 
staring boldly at her. He had been drinking, the 
scamp, and she shrugged her shoulders in scorn. 
Once or twice before she had had her suspicions ; 
now they were confirmed. And he had left the door- 
post and was blocking the passage. 

She must control herself and not show wrath. 
That had been Mrs. Danvers’s instruction with regard 
to drunken tramps on the Rubicon Meadows roads. 
** Don’t cross them, but placate them and then run,” 
and Nina scanned the way behind him. 

What do you wish t ” she asked, when he seemed 
to have some difficulty in articulating a sentence. 

He was standing gracefully flourishing one hand 
and trying to manage his suddenly thickened tongue. 

It is with regard 'to the name Nina Stephana,” he 
said, at last. May I offer an explanation .? ” 

His words were more courteous than his glances, 
and Nina, forgetting her caution, said, sharply, No, 
I am in a hurry to go to my room. Please let me 
pass.” 

“ Nina Stephana,” he continued, in a dense voice ; 
then he paused in order to adjust a trifling difficulty 
connected with balancing himself. 

‘‘ Pretty name,” he went on, brute of husband — 
stole child.” 


152 


HER SAILOR. 


Nina was not at all frightened. She became sud- 
denly angry. He would slander that absent husband, 
would he } 

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” she 
snapped at him ; “ a young man like you to get 
drunk. What do you suppose will become of you 
when you are old.^ Will you let me go by.^ If 
you don’t — ” 

She was furious now, and although his brain was 
slightly clouded, he took in her meaning. She had 
said that he was drunk. “ Isn’t enough on Merri- 
mac to overcome me,” he muttered. “ Pretty girl, 
but insulting. Must stand still, till apologise,” and 
one of his hands went weakly wandering in search 
of hers. 

She was so intent upon watching his face that he 
did manage to seize one hand in his hot grasp, one 
of the hands that her ’Steban always held — even 
when he had them against her will — as gently and 
cautiously as if they were rose-leaves. The drunken 
scamp ! 

“Let that go at once,” she said, in a low, furious 
voice. “ If you don’t, I will call my husband and he 
will knock you down.” 

If she had been less absorbed in the present scene, 
and had given one glance behind her, she would have 


A REBUFF FOR ADONIS. 


153 


seen that husband coming down the passage with 
measured tread. But her attention was fully con- 
centrated on her companion, and his on her; and 
the man behind stopped short as a pink palm sud- 
denly flew into the air and then descended mer- 
cilessly. 

She was only a little thing, but she had plenty of 
courage, and was by no means afraid of the tall 
young man bending over her; and there were no 
half-way measures with her. She had slapped the 
aggressor in the face, and had done it so successfully 
that he was glad to let her go. 

With a curious dash of sympathy in the scorn 
with which he regarded the tottering figure. Captain 
Fordyce moved toward him and laid a hand on his 
shoulder: Never mind her, — get into your room.” 

Adonis was about to follow her, to endeavour to 
seize the wicked palm and press it in punishment 
to his lips ; but now he speedily changed his mind, 
and in a shuffling manner proceeded to fall in with 
the advice given. 

Captain Fordyce went after him, said a few words 
in his ear, then he stepped outside. 

Nina had paused away down there in the half- 
darkness, and was looking back. If her enemy had 
fallen, it would have been like her to return and give 


154 


HER SAILOR. 


him assistance. But now he had safely disappeared, 
and there was her husband. 

She did not like the expression of his face. How 
unfortunate that he should have come on the scene 
just now ! He would think that she had been flirting 
with that miserable young man. Should she go back 
and explain } No, she was afraid of that black Spanish 
temper. She would wait until morning ; and, wisely 
wagging her head, she scampered the rest of the 
way to her room with the guilty air of a wanderer 
returning home. 

However, she loitered by the doorway and listened 
with ears in the air. Her husband had followed her 
for some distance. Now he was going up a near 
stairway and giving vent to his displeasure by that 
most common and convenient of all methods, — vio- 
lently banging a door. She shivered, and with a pagan 
wish that some dire calamity might befall the young 
man who had been the cause of her mortification, 
she went to bed. 

For some reason or other she could not sleep. 
There was a thorn in her pillow ; and although she 
shook it vigorously, it would not be driven out ; 
therefore in impatient, healthy restlessness she lay 
awake, her brain a jumble of thought, pierced occa- 
sionally by the clear, weird sound of the boatswain’s 


A REBUFF FOR ADONIS. 15^ 

whistle as it blew at intervals through the long, long 
night. 

At seven o’clock she got up, and, with a face 

tinged with wan from lack of sleep,” looked out 
the window. The storm was over. She had scarcely 
noticed its subsidence during the night, but now she 
saw that they had come to a glorious day. The air 
was keen and cool, the eastern sky was adorned with 
crimson and gold streaks, the morning sun was flash- 
ing on the deep green waves, and another quotation 
from her school-books leaped into her mind. 

“ ‘ The waters burn 

With his enkindling rays, 

No sooner touched than they return 
A tributary blaze.’ ” 

Dazzled by the glare, she turned away ; she re- 
flected that, as Miss Marsden had promised to take 
a walk with her before breakfast if the day were 
perfectly fine, she would have ample opportunity to 
admire the beauties of sea and sky from the vantage- 
ground of the deck. She would also prefer to have 
her first meeting with her husband, after the en- 
counter of last night, away from the breakfast-table, 
and in the presence of a third person. 

Therefore she scrambled through her dressing, 
and in a very few minutes closed her door behind 


156 


HER SAILOR. 


her, and stepping outside, stumbled against the 
stewardess, who was passing by. She received 
good-naturedly Nina’s penitent apology, and asked 
her whether she was going on deck. 

You’d better have your rubbers, mem, and some 
one to hold on to. The decks are awful wet. Have 
you heard about the capting } ” 

‘‘What about him.?” asked Nina, catching her 
breath. 

“He had a bad fall last night.” 

“ A fall, — is he hurt ? ” 

“ Pretty bad, mem. He’s got a long cut down his 
cheek.” 

Nina laid a hand on her heart, and leaned up 
against the wall. “ When did it happen .? ” 

“Between eleven and twelve. You see he was 
walkin’ toward the bridge. He didn’t notice a heavy 
sea boardin’. It knocked him down ; he struck an 
iron bar and lost some blood. But the doctor fixed 
him.” 

“Is he — is he walking about .? ” asked Nina, with 
a white face, and stammering as she usually did when 
much moved. 

“Yes, mem, but I guess he’ll go to bed now it’s 
turned fine. He don’t rest much in storms.” 

Nina suddenly became absent-minded, and the 


A REBUFF FOR ADONIS. 


157 


woman took her departure. Left alone, she in- 
dulged in a guilty shudder and a confused soliloquy. 
Probably she had been the cause of this accident. 
’Steban, horrified at last evening’s escapade in which 
she had been so blameless, had rushed on deck, and, 
blinded by rage, had forgotten to be watchful and had 
been struck down. He might have been killed; in 
which case she would have been the cause of his 
death. 

In a transport of compassion and fear she drew 
her cloak about her and clambered on deck. She 
paused in the doorway and looked out. Storms 
leave their traces, and though the sky was so clear 
the sea had by no means calmed down ; and the 
Merrimac rolled steadily from side to side, her decks 
for the greater part of the time covered with water. 
Nina could not get out. Planks about two feet high 
were placed on the thresholds of the doors to keep 
the water from coming in. If she ventured out it 
would be at the risk of being washed overboard. In 
deep discontent she stared about her. No one 
passed until some sailors came to heave the log. 
She watched the long line reeling out, then mechan- 
ically counted the knots as it was pulled in. The 
cheerful heave ho” of the men’s voices prevented 
her from hearing some one splashing through the 


158 


HER SAILOR. 


water. Not until a shadow darkened the doorway 
did she turn around. Captain Fordyce was just 
passing. His appearance was so unexpected and so 
singular that it drew from her a nervous, hysterical 
laugh. 

The sickly hue of his face changed slightly, and 
he hastened his steps to get away from the sound 
of her voice. 

** Oh, how bad I am ! ” she ejaculated. ** He will 
think I am making fun of him, and I am so sorry. 
I must get out ; ” and, desperately climbing and 
scrambling over the planks, she fell into a wave that 
was running down the deck. The water surged 
coldly around her ankles ; she felt herself slip- 
ping. The sailors had finished their work and 
were going away. The only person in sight was 
the rubber-clad form disappearing around a distant 
capstan. 

Captain Fordyce ! ” she called, despairingly. 

He apparently did not hear her. 

“Captain Fordyce,” she cried, indignantly, 
you come back } ” 

Her voice impressed him this time, and he turned 
around. His determined young wife had fallen on 
her knees in the water ; with one hand she held 
back a tangle of curls that the wind had blown 


A REBUFF FOR ADONIS. 1 59 

about her face; with the other she groped after a 
slipper sailing merrily toward the lee scuppers. 
With a few quick strides he was beside her, and, 
lifting her up, attempted to put her in the door- 
way. But she wriggled away from him, and took 
hold of the iron railing that ran around the deck 
cabins. 

“You must not stand here,*' he said, shortly. 

She gazed earnestly at his averted face. Her 
eyes were full of tears, her voice seemed to have left 
her. “It must be his strange appearance,” she 
reflected, mournfully. “Those bandages are dread- 
fully disfiguring. One of his eyes is quite closed ; 
his face is swollen, and the corner of his mouth is 
half-way up his cheek : and perhaps it is my fault. 
’Steban,” she said, tentatively, “ I heard about your 
fall a few minutes ago. I am so sorry — Good 
gracious ! what an immense wave ! Do you think 
it is coming over.^*” 

“Yes.” 

She threw a hurried glance about her. The 
Merrimac was lurching heavily. Along her sides 
the waves seemed hollowed out in a huge valley; 
other waves rose behind them like a range of hills. 
A dizzy feeling came over her, and she felt as if she 
were slipping for ever into the yawning gulf before 


l6o HER SAILOR. 

her. ’Steban, ’Steban ! ” she shrieked, imploringly, 
as she clung to him, “don’t let me fall.” 

His arms were strong. One of them was around 
her, the other grasped a stanchion. She felt per- 
fectly safe now, and her heart beat a little quicker. 
His face was still averted. Jealousy, the rage of 
man, had probably entire possession of him ; but 
just for an instant when they went down, down, 
till the rail that surrounded the deck dipped into the 
sea, the grasp of his arm tightened, the expression 
of his face changed. But when the ship righted her- 
self he was again cold and forbidding, and all her 
courage died away. Dropping her eyes, she said, 
meekly, “ I will go in now.” 

“Wait an instant,” he said, quietly. “You must 
give up talking to that young man who has been 
amusing you during the past two days, and who 
was having so touching an interview with you last 
evening.” 

“ He is a very nice young man,” said Nina, feebly. 

“ He is a professional gambler.” 

“A what } ” she exclaimed, flinging up her head. 

“A gambler, — a man whose business it is to 
fleece any person he meets who is silly enough 
to engage in games of chance with him, and ” 
— meaningly — “he likes to play for high stakes.” 


A REBUFF FOR ADONIS. l6l 

Nina restlessly moved one of her wet feet about 
the moist deck. And this was the sort of man she 
had allowed to talk to her, — to be friendly with 
her. 

** A short time ago,” her husband went on, **he 
got into trouble on a French steamer because one of 
his victims shot himself.” 

‘‘ Why did you not tell me this before ? ” mur- 
mured the girl, resentfully. 

“ Suppose I wanted you to learn a lesson.” 

“ You didn’t want me to learn a lesson,” she said, 
vehemently. don’t believe you knew, for sure, 
what he was like till just now : that sort of thing is 
no^ permitted. The captain of a ship — ” 

‘‘Has no right whatever to control the amuse- 
ments of his passengers unless they interfere with 
the exercise of his duties. I really wished to give 
you a lesson, though I did not know surely how bad 
he was till yesterday. The longer I live, the more 
I wonder over the guilelessness of women — good 
women — in making acquaintances.” 

“ I hate suspicious people,” retorted Nina. 

“You must go below and change those wet 
clothes,” he said, peremptorily lifting her inside 
the door, “and don’t wear house slippers on deck 
again.” 


i 62 


HER SAILOR. 


She discontentedly made her way to her room. 
The interview had not been satisfactory. He was 
dreadfully cross,” she muttered ; ‘‘ and he can look 
as disagreeable with one eye as most people can 
with two.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


AN UNSATISFACTORY INTERVIEW. 

She hurried through her second toilet in order 
that she might go and see Miss Marsden before the 
breakfast-bell rang. On her way to her a few min- 
utes later, she met Mr. Delessert, who was coming 
from his room. His attire was, as usual, irreproach- 
ably elegant. There was not a wrinkle in the dark 
blue clothes that fitted so admirably his straight, 
well-proportioned figure. The knot in his necktie 
was perfection itself ; and his carefully brushed hair 
and smooth moustache threw her recent attempts at 
hair-brushing quite into the shade. 

In the midst of her newly conceived horror of the 
man, she wondered whether he would dare to speak 
to her. Not he ; with a complete control over his 
features, he absolutely looked through her blushing, 
indignant face to the wall behind. Judging by his 
expressionless countenance there was not a living 
creature near him. 

“ The coward,” she angrily reflected. His spirit 
163 


164 her sailor. 

is as base as his face is fair.’* Then she turned her 
back on his retreating form, and pursued her way to 
Miss Marsden’s room. 

The latter young lady did not wish to go to the 
breakfast-table, and Nina refused to leave her. I 
don’t like the panther,” she said, evasively. “ His 
spots are beginning to show. His smooth skin is 
quite changed. I shall not go to the table again 
unless you are there to take the seat between us.” 

Miss Marsden was curious ; but she could obtain 
no further details from her with regard to the spots, 
beyond the bald information that they were plainly 
visible, — even though she sent Marie from the room 
under pretence of getting coffee and toast for their 
breakfast. 

For half the morning they amused themselves in 
their usual way. Miss Marsden conversed in her 
semi-sarcastic fashion, usually on the frailties of 
mankind, and Nina intently listened. So absorbed 
with each other were they, that the first lunch-bell 
rang before the young lady had left her berth. 

Nina attempted to assist Marie, but the operation 
of dressing after so many days in bed was a tedious 
one ; and the attempt, owing to Nina’s high spirits, 
degenerated into a frolic. 

‘‘ Marie, go get us a tray,” said Miss Marsden, at 


AJV UNSATISFACTORY INTERVIEW. 165 

last, pressing a hand against her shaking side. 
“ Child, I have laughed till I am weak. You are 
better than a chest full of medicine. After lunch, 
we will try to effect a combination of all these 
garments.” 

Nina gazed at her in admiration when she was 
fully dressed. ‘‘You are like the tall green poplars 
on the meadows at home,” she said, impulsively. 
“ I wish I were like you.” 

“ Nonsense, child ; men like a rosebud like you 
far better than a poplar like me.” 

Nina shook her head unbelievingly, and trotted 
after her to the deck. Marie established them both 
comfortably in steamer chairs, in the midst of shawls 
and rugs, then she betook herself to the society of 
Lady Forrest’s maid. 

The day was now perfect. The sea had calmed 
down, save for a long languid swell, and the sky was 
still dazzlingly bright. Nina surveyed the unusual 
number of men, women, and children struggling on 
deck, and asked Miss Marsden whether she would 
like to speak to some of them. 

“No,” said the young lady, lazily, “I don’t care 
for people whose antecedents are unknown to me ; 
I think it is better to keep them all at a distance. 
Women cannot be too careful of the associates they 


HER SAILOR. 


1 66 

choose when travelling alone. Who is that tall ugly 
man with the eye-glass staring at us ? ” 

“ Captain Eversleigh.” 

“ Impertinence,” and Miss Marsden lowered her 
parasol. 

“ Why, he is the nice British dog with the honest 
bark,” said Nina. ‘‘Captain Fordyce introduced 
him to me, so he is all right.” 

“ Good dogs sometimes have to suffer for the 
sins of bad ones,” said Miss Marsden, composedly. 
“ Nevertheless, I have confidence in your husband 
in every way. He is said to be the best captain on 
this line, and he has certainly brought us admirably 
through this gale.” 

“ What do you call a good dog } ” inquired Nina, 
with a gentle questioning air. 

“ A good dog is one that is clever, watchful, and 
that does exactly what I tell him.” 

“Just what I call a good dog,” said Nina, tri- 
umphantly ; “ not a snapping cross creature, always 
heading you off, and driving you where you don’t 
want to go.” 

“Take into account what you are, though,” said 
Miss Marsden, sharply. “ Suppose you are a bad, 
wandering lammie with a proclivity for rushing into 
briers and thorns 


AN UNSATISFACTORY INTER VIEW. 1 67 

“ Wouldn’t I feel them ? ” asked Nina, warmly. 
‘‘Wouldn’t they scratch me and make me back 
out ? ” 

“ But you might lose some wool.” 

“ Well, that wouldn’t matter to the dog.” 

“ It would mean loss of prestige to him.” 

“Dogs ought to mind their own business,” said 
Nina, with such a determined set of her rosy chin 
that Miss Marsden bit her lip to keep from open 
laughter. 

“ If I were a lamb,” she said, presently, and with 
her usual calm and superior air, “a mischievously 
disposed lamb, and had a good dog that was inter- 
ested in me, and tried to keep me away from 
the companionship of briers, I should endeavour to 
reciprocate. I should propitiate the dog lest he 
should get discouraged. Even good dogs will bite.” 

Nina had apparently lost interest in the argument, 
and had gone to sleep. Her white lids were droop- 
ing wearily over her eyes. Her head was on her 
shoulder, and casting a sharp glance at her, Miss 
Marsden followed her example. When she was 
really asleep, soundly and unmistakably so, with her 
black head safely hidden from the scrutiny of 
passers-by under the shade of her red parasol, Nina 
glided from her chair and went stealthily away. 


i68 


HER SAILOR. 


There was something on her mind that she must 
get rid of. Disagreeable as the duty was, she would 
not feel justified in escaping its performance. Up 
the bridge ladder and into the chart-room she has- 
tened. There she hesitated an instant. Her eyes, 
dazzled by the glare of the sun, could perceive not 
one thing in the interior of the little cool, dark 
room. 

Presently she made out the table and a chair be- 
fore it. She stumbled into the latter, and, blindly 
reaching out her hand, seized a pen and piece of 
paper, and began to write, ‘‘Dear Captain For- 
dyce.” 

No, that would not do. It was too stiff, and, 
scratching out the “ Captain Fordyce,” she put 
“My dear Esteban.” Now — how should she be- 
gin } “ Though circumstances were apparently very 

much against me — ” 

That was too stilted. She drew her pen through 
the carefully written words, and began again : “ Will 
you allow me to explain to you a circumstance — ” 

Always that word “ circumstance.” It turned up 
like a bad penny. “ I don’t believe it was a circum- 
stance at all,” she said, aloud, and with a vexed 
exclamation she dashed a heavy black line down the 
page, and, seizing a fresh piece of paper, wrote : 


AN UNSATISFACTORY INTERVIEW. 169 


“ Dear ’Steban : — I wasn’t flirting with that young man. 
I detested him from the beginning. 

“ Nina.” 


Then folding and addressing it, she uttered a 
profound and relieved sigh, and prepared to leave 
the room. 

You might as well deliver it,” said a quiet voice 
behind her. 

With a faint shriek she wheeled around. There, 
extended full length on the lounge, was the very 
man to whom she had been writing. He had been 
lying there watching her. am tired,” he said, 
slowly. was trying to get forty winks by way 
of refreshment.” 

‘‘When I came and disturbed you. Please for- 
give me,” and, cautiously and penitently, she began 
to edge her way toward the door. 

“Wait,” he said, calmly. “I wish you to hand 
me that bit of paper from the table.” 

“I would rather have you read it after I have 
gone,” she said, her cheeks a furious red. 

“ And I would rather read it now,” he returned, 
gently. “ Bring it here, Nina.” 

Reluctantly, and dragging her feet after her as 
slowly as if there were balls and chains attached, 
she went back, seized the paper by a corner. 


1 70 HER SAILOR. 

and extended it to him as if it were a noxious 
reptile. 

He took it and her hand at the same time, oblig- 
ing her to stand by him while he read it. He pored 
over it for some minutes; then, raising his eyes to 
her face, he said, “ So you imagine I am vexed with 
you.?” 

Nina thought of Miss Marsden’s words, “Even 
good dogs will bite,” and answered meekly in the 
affirmative. 

“Don’t you suppose I have been watching you 
during the last two days ? ” 

“ Have you .? ” she said, quickly. 

He smiled. “I know every breath you draw. 
There is nothing of the coquette about you. You 
like to admire men at a distance. Near at hand 
they frighten you. A caress from any man but 
myself would send you into hysterics.” 

This smacked so strongly of self-conceit that 
Nina was goaded into a retort. “No, it doesn’t,” 
she cried, hastily. 

“ It doesn’t,” he repeated, haughtily ; “ it wouldn’t, 
I suppose you mean.” 

“ I mean what I say,” she replied, stubbornly. 

His face, already alarmingly pale, took on a yet 
more sickly hue. He put a hand to his head, and 


AN UNSATISFACTORY INTER VIE tV, 17I 

raised himself on his elbow. Nina, has that fellow 
dared 

His voice choked, he was really in a passion now. 

“ Yes, he has dared,” she said, slowly. There was 
a short pause; then, overcome by sudden fright at 
the expression overspreading his face, she rattled 
on, But he only squeezed my hand, and I ran to 
my room and washed it. But that wasn’t what I 
meant.” 

He did not speak, and she began to wonder 
whether excitement was a good thing for him. 

How is your head now } ” she asked, with con- 
cealed interest. 

When he did not answer her she proceeded, 
‘‘Your cheek is less swollen, now. You look quite 
yourself. Those bandages were not so very unbe- 
coming; they were clean and — ” 

“ Which hand was it ? ” he asked, abruptly. 

She extended one trembling and seemingly agi- 
tated set of fingers. He laughed shortly and un- 
amiably, made a slight motion toward them, then 
drew back. 

“ What did you have in mind when you said this 
affair was not what you meant } ” 

There was an ominous glitter in his eye fore- 
shadowing approaching civilities ; and Nina, with 


72 


HER SAILOR. 


treacherous meekness, resolved to satisfy his curi- 
osity. But she would take her own time about it, 
and she asked first, “ Did you tell that — that 
creature not to speak to me 1 ” 

Yes,” he said, shortly. 

I met him and he passed me by. I thought 
you had been advising him. What would you do 
if you built a nice, nice house, and put me in it, 
and sailed away over the sea, and came home one 
day and found a beautiful young man with blue eyes 
and curly hair, and not a sign of a bald spot, with 
— with — ” 

She stopped in pretended bashfulness. 

“With his arm around you,” he said, coolly, 
“making love to you.” 

“ Y-yes.” 

“ I should say : * Go on, sir, — may you get more 
satisfaction out of that amusement than I have ever 
done.’ ” 

She gave him a curious child-like glance of gratifi- 
cation between her half-shut eyelids. “ Suppose you 
came home when it was a black, black night, and 
you found me half-way out the window with the 
beautiful young man holding my hand, and his tall 
black steed standing by ready to carry us away off 
from you to the end of the world } ” 


AJV UNSATISFACTORY INTERVIEW. 1 73 

“ I should say, ‘ Good luck to you ! ’ I might even 
give you a hand up to the tall steed’s back.” 

“ Did you ever get with naughty men that made 
you drink, and drink, and drink, till you were quite 
drunk, ’Steban } ” she asked, earnestly. 

Often,” he replied, ironically. <‘Who was the 
other man who tried to flirt with you ^ ” 

It was a good while ago,” she said, with hanging 
head. ‘‘He didn’t flirt. It was only his arm.” 

“Dislocated, I suppose. Well — upon what occa- 
sion } ” 

“Two years ago this month,” she said, gently. “I 
remember because the roses were in bloom, and they 
blushed quite, quite red as they looked in the 
window.” 

“ Modest roses ! Well, to continue.” 

“ I will tell you some other time,” she said, 
precipitately. 

“ No, tell me now.” 

“ Will you let go my hand if I tell you } ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Truly } ” 

“Yes, truly.” 

“The beautiful young man was a dentist,” she 
said, mischievously, “ and I never saw him before, 
and I’ve never seen him since, and he just had to 


174 


HER SAILOR. 


put his arm around me, ’cause how could he get 
at my back tooth if he didn’t ? There, — are you 
satisfied now, monster? ” and pulling her hand from 
him she ran to the other end of the room. 

She* was bubbling over with waggishness and 
mirthfulness ; and if he stirred a finger she would 
run away from him. ‘‘I knew that all the time,” 
he said, calmly. “You can’t come over me with 
your tricks. Wait a minute, though. I want to 
give you something to read.” 

She prudently retreated to the steps when he 
approached the bookcase. “I’m not very fond of 
reading on this old MerrimaCy Captain Fordyce. 
The screw jars my brain.” 

“Just as well, — you have read too much trash al- 
ready,” he retorted ; “ but I want you to go through 
this, every word of it. Will you promise me ? ” 

“ I suppose so. Put the book on that upper 
step.” 

“It is a French novel,” he went on; “but it is 
a good one. Pierre Loti’s ^ Picheur d' Islande! '' 

“ Is it in French ? ” 

“Yes.” 

She made a wry face at him. 

“ You have been taught that language, which is 
more than I have,” he said; “I read it in Eng- 


AN UNSATISFACTORY INTERVIEW. 1 75 

lish. Come, run over a few pages of the French 
to me.” 

She shook her head and he slapped the book down 
on the table. “I don’t think much of your grati- 
tude. Here am I half ill, or ‘ sick,’ as you say in 
Rubicon Meadows, and you won’t do as much for 
me as you do for strangers.” 

“ What do I do for strangers } ” she asked, falter- 
ingly, and stretching her neck around the door-post. 

“You drove Miss Marsden’s headache away the 
other day. She told me.” 

“Does your head ache.? Could I do it any 
good .? ” she asked, wistfully, reentering the room. 

“ No, no, birdie,” he replied, touched by her sud- 
denly altered expression. “ I have no headache ; 
run away. I have made a vow that for the rest of 
the trip I shall see as little of you as possible. You 
need not look startled. You are not to blame, except 
for being the most prodigious temptation that ever 
flesh and blood was subjected to. I can’t endure 
you at all. I must keep away. I see now that I 
did wrong to bring you on this trip. It ” — with 
a frown and a slight blush — “ has led to disagree- 
able complications. I find that fellow Delessert has 
started some smoking-room gossip to the effect that 
I am persecuting you with unwelcome attentions. 


1/6 


HER SAILOR. 


What? You are not crying? Upon my word, you 
laugh and cry as easily as you breathe.” 

She was not crying, although she was cowering 
over the table with her head on her arms. At his 
question she straightened herself and showed him a 
pitiful, quivering face. “ I wish I could comfort you, 
’Steban. I wish I could stay with you, but — but I 
can’t.” 

She was crying now — in regular torrents — and he 
muttered to himself, and stared helplessly at her. 
*‘P-please don’t touch me,” she gasped; ‘‘I will 
get over it in a minute. I am very sorry to disturb 
you, I — I — ” 

She wanted him to stroke her brown head, to 
show that he forgave her ; but he restrained himself 
and presently she sprang from her seat and took the 
book from him. He stood holding back the curtains 
for her, as politely and formally as if she were a 
duchess, and she tottered from the room as unsteadily 
as the characterless Adonis had entered his the even- 
ing before. After she had passed her changed and 
impassive husband she flashed him a grieving glance, 
in which resentment, approval, and bewilderment were 
so strangely mixed that he involuntarily muttered a 
compassionate, “ Poor little thing ! ” as he went back 
to his sofa. 


AJV UNSATISFACTORY INTERVIEW. 1 77 

Being anxious to avoid questions, Nina ran to her 
room, hastily washed her face, and returned to Miss 
Marsden, whom she found wide-awake and watchful. 

Well,” she said, as Nina slipped back into the 
seat beside her, ‘‘did the dog receive the lamb’s 
overtures kindly } ” 

“ A good dog is always reasonable,” said Nina, 
soberly. 

“Miss Marsden,” she said, after a time, “you 
think I’ve been quarrelling with my husband, don’t 
you ? ” 

“ Not quarrelling, — having a little tiff,” said the 
young lady. 

“Do you think husbands usually stand by their 
wives ? ” 

“You know they don’t, Miss Innocence. The 
book of life has been oj 'en before you, and you have 
read it, young as you are. Likewise endless novels, 
I fancy, like all girls.” 

“ But if a woman is a man’s wife, that makes him 
feel — well, I don’t know how,” said Nina, with a 
puzzled air. 

“ A man will stand by his wife because he is a born 
egotist. She belongs to him — is a part of him. 
He puts up with her faults because she has the 
honour of bearing his name.” 


178 


HER SAILOR, 


“My husband loves me because I am myself/’ 
whispered the girl against the book that she put up 
to her cheek, “ not because I am his wife. He is a 
very good man.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 


A LITTLE IDLE WORD. 

“ What a delicious evening ! ” Side by side, a few 
hours later, Miss Marsden and Nina knelt on a couch 
in a tiny ladies’ cabin on deck, looking out through 
the open window at the long, undulating line of light 
playing over the surface of the sunlit waves. 

‘‘ How indescribably beautiful it is,” went on Miss 
Marsden, softly. 

“ ‘ I long to tread that path of golden rays, 

And think ’tvvould lead to some bright isle of rest.’ ” 

Nina murmured an assent, and the silence was 
not again broken until they heard the “ quaintly 
musical tramp ” and the cheery voices of the sailors 
as they marched over the deck outside to take the 
hourly log. 

They called out the number of knots they were 
making; then their footsteps died away, and quiet- 
ness again reigned, broken only by the gentle lapping 
of the waves against the side of the ship. 


179 


i8o 


HER SAILOR. 


“ Only a plank between us and death,” said Miss 
Marsden, with a shudder; and she incited the medi- 
tative Nina to a discussion of their chances of escape 
in case of accident, fire, or shipwreck. Their con- 
jectures were brought to a premature close by hear- 
ing, in a manly voice, “ Y es, I acknowledge that 
Mrs. Fordyce is not bad looking, but she is too un- 
formed for my taste. I like a woman with a little 
more savoir faire than that baby-faced girl will ever 
have. Miss Marsden is a woman after my own heart. 
Her pretty pale face set off by those bands of dark 
hair is absolutely charming; and her repose of 
manner is faultless. I wonder what her first name 
is .? ” 

For the next few seconds Miss Marsden and 
Nina carried on a dialogue composed, like that of 
Butler’s Spaniards, of ‘‘heads and shoulders, nods 
and shrugs.” They communicated to each other 
the intelligence that Captain Eversleigh was at the 
open window of his room next the ladies’ cabin ; and 
owing to the calmness of the sea and the lack of 
noise about the ship, they could hear nearly every 
word he said. 

Though convinced that they were not doing a 
perfectly honourable thing, they had not the neces- 
sary strength of mind to close the window. The 


A LITTLE IDLE WORD. l8l 

prospect of learning their neighbour’s opinion of 
them was too alluring. 

So they were all ears as Captain Ever sleigh con- 
tinued, “ Stupid man, I know the little girl’s name 
fast enough. Haven’t I heard her husband growl 
a dozen proprietary ‘ Ninas } ’ When I said ‘ her,’ 
I meant Miss Marsden. What did that dicer 
Delessert say is the name of the fellow that jilted 
her?” 

Miss Marsden went through a pantomine of dumb 
wrath. Now she could make common cause with 
Nina against the panther who had been gossiping 
about her recreant lover. The tall youth May- 
bury was with Captain Eversleigh, and evidently 
was either sharing his window as Nina was sharing 
Miss Marsden’s, or was at a second one ; for his 
boyish tones of mock wrathfulness clearly floated 
to them. 

‘‘ Seek out the villain, pick a quarrel with him, 
beat him to a jelly for his heartlessness.” 

Nina laughed under her breath, and by means of 
lip movement announced her surprise at this un- 
bending of the tall, usually wordless youth. 

‘‘ Bah ! ” whispered Miss Marsden, noiselessly, 
“men jabber just like girls when they are alone.” 

Her champion continued, “Poor girl! §he looks 


HER SAILOR. 


182 

as fragile as a bit of my aunt’s eggshell china, and 
Delessert said she was as jolly as a sandboy before 
this happened.” 

Mr. Maybury took up the strain. “ And the 
scamp that took the roses out of her cheeks is now 
transplanting them in the affections of another girl, 
according to our Jack of cards informant. Seek him 
out, Eversleigh ; * cudgel him like a dog,’ to quote 
old Will; persuadek Miss Anonyma Marsden to 
‘ doff the willow garland ’ for the low deceiver, and 
don a bit of orange blossom for you.” 

** What an utter idiot ! ” murmured Miss Marsden, 
in annoyance, and trying to hush Nina, who had 
lost control of herself and had buried her head in 
the sofa cushions. In trying to suppress her. Miss 
Marsden lost a part of the conversation ; and when 
she resumed her place at the window she found 
that Captain Eversleigh had entered upon a more 
egotistical branch of the subject. 

Can you not suggest some way of gaining their 
favour ?” he was asking, impatiently. 

“ One is a society woman, and the other a shy 
robin,” replied Mr. Maybury, in an oracular tone of 
voice. 

“They both probably understand music,” con- 
tinued Captain Eversleigh. “Would it not be jolly 


A LITTLE IDLE WORD. 


183 


if we could get them to make some use of the piano 
and organ during these everlasting days ? This 
ceaseless stupidity will soon turn my brain. Fordyce 
won’t come out of his shell, Delessert we have cut, 
and as all the eligible people but those girls are ill, 
it leaves us only a few cads of men to fall back on. 
That little beggar in the glaring tweed suit will 
worry me into my grave if some one doesn’t stop 
him from teasing away from me all those two 
shilling cigars I bought of the Spanish consul for 
the voyage.” 

“ Leave your cigar-case behind you when you go 
to the smoking-room,” suggested Mr. Maybury. 
Then he burst out laughing. ‘‘By Jove, though, 
it’s as good as a play to see the little divvy’s nose 
going when you approach.” 

“ My precious Havanas shall not waste their fra- 
grance any longer on that cockney,” grumbled 
Captain Eversleigh; “a twopenny cigarette is good 
enough for him. Maybury, you are going to sleep. 
Rouse yourself, old boy, and sing ‘ Press the Grape ; ’ 
and he began a drinking-song in well-controlled, 
pleasant tones. 

Presently his friend joined in with a voice so 
opposed to his conversational tones that, overcome 
by his raven-like croakings, they both exploded in 


1 84 


HER SAILOR. 


peals of laughter. Their mirth was infectious, and 
hastily closing the window Miss Marsden and Nina 
too gave way to merriment. 

Nina was the first to recover composure, and she 
took to blinking at her slightly confused companion. 
Then a match-making ardour rose within her. Cap- 
tain Eversleigh apparently fancied Miss Marsden. 
Why should he not be encouraged.? Perhaps in 
time he might take the place of that bad man who 
had forsaken her. Also she herself would enjoy 
talking to the tall boy who had expressed his ad- 
miration for her. She would not flirt with him. 
Oh, no, she would merely talk soberly and quietly 
as befitted a married woman. She must not be gay 
nor forward ; for in that case she would annoy her 
Spaniard. She would, however, like him to see that, 
even though he had deserted her himself, and had 
driven away the scapegrace Delessert, she was not 
at a loss for companionship. 

** I dare say they are lonely,” she observed, bring- 
ing her cogitations to a close. *‘What a pity that 
we cannot show them some attention ! ” 

<‘We might accept some attentions from them,” 
corrected Miss Marsden, briskly, ‘Tf they were 
properly introduced.” 

‘^But women have to be so careful about the 


A LITTLE IDLE WORD. 185 

associates they choose when travelling,” observed 
Nina, mischievously. 

Miss Marsden shook her head. ** You will be an 
apt pupil in the school of old Father Time, my 
dear ; but I am a class ahead of you yet. I think 
that Englishman is the ugliest man I ever saw.” 

So do I,” said Nina, demurely. 

He has an honest ring in his voice, certainly ; 
but given the occasion, I dare say he will distinguish 
himself with the best of them.” 

I dare say he drinks,” said Nina. “ I guess all 
men drink when they aren’t gambling. I expect my 
husband is as bad as the worst of them — and lie, 
too. I suppose Captain Eversleigh didn’t mean a 
word of what he said about you.” 

Miss Marsden, evidently tired of the conversation, 
was humming five lines to herself : 

“ ‘ A little idle word, 

Breathed in an idle hour ; 

Between two laughs that word was said, 

Forgotten just as fled, 

And yet that word had power ! ’ ” 

Immediately afterward she announced her fixed 
and inalterable decision of going to bed ; and Nina, 
who never wished to retire, and having once retired 
rarely wished to get up, was obliged to leave her. 


HER SAILOR. 


1 86 

The next morning the introductions took place. 
Captain Fordyce appeared at the breakfast-table, 
and, some time after Miss Marsden and Nina had 
seated themselves side by side next him, he leaned 
over and said to the former in a blunt whisper. 
That man wishes an introduction : have you any 
objection ? ” 

As “ that man ” meant Captain Eversleigh, who 
was listening unobtrusively. Miss Marsden murmured 
an assent ; and the introduction was made. Captain 
Eversleigh then asked Captain Fordyce’s permission 
to seat his friend, Mr. Maybury, in the place left 
vacant by Mr. Delessert, who was taking his meal 
no one knew where. 

Nina, therefore, had her wish fulfilled. Mr. May- 
bury was charmed to pour out his store of semi- 
bashful, semi-bravado remarks at her feet, and she 
shyly accepted his homage, and allowed her husband 
to devote himself to his plate. 

Breakfast over, they all separated, but, to Nina’s 
amusement. Miss Marsden showed a steady inclina- 
tion to gravitate toward the music-room ; and before 
the morning was half over, she was striking the 
opening chords of one of Chopin’s waltzes. 

Her execution was brilliant enough to be remark- 
able in one not a professional musician ; and Nina 


A LITTLE IDLE WORD. 1 87 

alternately listened to her in pleased surprise, and 
gazed impatiently at the open door of the room. 

There they were at last — their two admirers — 
looking over each other’s shoulders, in hesitating 
indecision. Little by little, allured by the soulful 
harmonies, they were drawn into the room ; and 
when Miss Marsden gently swung around on the 
stool; she found that they had halted about as far 
from the piano as if it were a caged lion, and were 
uttering reserved expressions of admiration in re- 
spectful tones. 

She answered them with distant politeness ; but 
Nina did not open her lips until she thought it 
necessary to come to her companion’s rescue. The 
young lady had made an extraordinary mistake for 
a person of her self-command and composure. A 
piece of music had slipped from the piano to the floor, 
and as Captain Eversleigh picked it up she remarked, 
“ That song looks as if it would suit your voice.” 

An inquiring look flitted over his face, and though 
he did not speak, his manner plainly said, How 
in the world do you know that I have a voice } ” 
Blushing like a red, red rose at her blunder, she 
for a moment lost the faultless repose of manner 
that he found so charming, and dropping her hands 
on her lap she nervously surveyed her rings. 


i88 


HER SAILOR. 


Nina glanced at the title of the song, Do Not 
Forget Me, Darling.” Even from the solitudes of 
Rubicon Meadows she knew that it was one of the 
most hackneyed of the drawing-room songs of the 
day. Probably the naughty lover had sung it to 
Miss Marsden. Its title recalled him ; and to keep 
herself from crying she had said the first thing that 
came into her mind. 

guess you mean that it suits my husband’s 
voice,” she lisped, kindly. 

Her air of utter guilelessness, coupled with the 
ridiculous suggestion of their reserved commander 
singing anything so sentimental as the ditty before 
them, quite overcame her companions, and they 
broke into spontaneous and simultaneous laughter. 

" I think Captain Fordyce’s voice would be more 
after the order of double bass,” said Captain Evers- 
leigh, controlling himself. “This is more suited to 
my after-mess baritone. ■ Will you be kind enough 
to try the accompaniment for me ” and placing the 
music on the rack, he gave Miss Marsden the oppor- 
tunity of turning away from them her white face 
with its crimson streaks. 

Nina and Mr. Maybury retired to a divan. The 
piano had broken the ice between them, and for the 
remainder of the voyage it kept up its kindly offices. 


A LITTLE IDLE WORD. I Sq 

Miss Marsden and Nina found Mr. May bury to be a 
cool, careless, undemonstrative youth, with a mer- 
curial style of conversation and unlimited stores of 
nonsense and absurd chatter at his command. 

Captain Eversleigh was more of a man of the 
world ; although he, too, could be nonsensical when 
occasion required. However, whatever he might 
feel, there was not the slightest exhibition of devo- 
tion in the efforts he made for the entertainment 
of the person who pleased him most of the passen- 
gers on board the Merrimac. Indeed, he was more 
demonstrative with Mrs. Grayley, when that lady 
appeared. But she came out very little during the 
last few days of the voyage. Her favourite, Mr. 
Delessert, was in disgrace, and was lurking in out- 
of-the-way nooks of the steamer ; therefore she pre- 
ferred solitude and the darkened room that kept her 
hands white. 

At last a morning came when the joyful news 
flew through the ship that they should be in Eng- 
land before evening. 

A kind of resurrection ensued. A curious con- 
glomeration of passengers issued from the rooms 
that had been affording them shelter during the 
last few days. Numbers of them had never been 
seen before ; and Nina developed an irresistible ten- 


HER SAILOR. 


1 90 

dency to laugh in her sleeve, as they, for the most 
part, sneaked on deck with the guilty air of having 
been off on a lengthy spree. 

However, their pale, seasick faces brightened as 
the land breeze swept across the decks ; and with 
vows not loud, but deep, they solemnly bound them- 
selves never again to exchange the delights of terra 
firma for a life on the ocean wave. 

Just before lunch Mrs. Grayley came on deck. 
She languidly sank into a chair beside Nina, and 
her eyes wandered to Captain Eversleigh, who was 
sitting in the waist of the ship. When he left his 
comfortable reclining chair to administer consolation 
to a child who had fallen down, she said, “ That man 
has a kind heart if he has an ugly face.” 

Miss Marsden and Nina had indulged in number- 
less speculations in regard to Captain Eversleigh ; 
for, with characteristic English reserve, he volun- 
teered but little information about himself. 

“ Do you know him } ” asked Nina, quietly. 

I know about him. He stayed with some 
friends of mine in New York. He is on his way 
to take possession of some property left him by a 
distant relative : it will make him quite a rich 
man.” 

Miss Marsden, who was sitting beyond Nina, made 


A LITTLE IDLE WORD, 


I9I 

no remark ; and the latter again took up the thread 
of conversation. Did he get the news while he 
was in America ? ” 

‘‘Yes, by cablegram. He is in an English regi- 
ment of the line. I dare say he will leave it and 
devote himself to taking care of his money.” 

“He is rather agreeable to talk to,” drawled 
Nina. 

Mrs. Grayley’s inane face enlivened itself. “ You 
are not doing the poor fellow justice with your 
faint praise. My friends whom he visited — the 
Dunmoor-Marleys, of New York — said that his 
aunt, old Lady Glenville, who lives in Park Lane, 
London, actually bows down and worships him. 
She is a fine old lady, regular English type ; rides 
horseback like a girl. She brought him up ; his 
parents are dead. Her husband is an admiral, 
old Admiral Glenville. I dare say you have heard 
of him. Miss Marsden,” and she leaned across Nina 
to look at Nina’s silent companion. 

“No, I have not,” said that young lady, calmly. 

“ Well, you will if you go to London and go into 
society. He is as lively as his wife.” 

“ Captain Eversleigh will make a good husband 
for some girl,” said Nina, with a matronly air. 

“ Indeed he will,” assented Mrs. Grayley. 


192 


HER SAILOR. 


Nina had not found out what she wished to know, 
so she asked, point-blank, Is he engaged ? ” 

** No ; the Dunmoor-Marleys said that he nearly 
breaks poor old Lady Glenville’s heart. She invites 
all the nice girls she knows to her house, hoping 
he will fall in love with one of them ; and he. tells 
her they are all charming, but not half as charming 
as she is. Now what can you do with a man like 
that ^ Many a girl has gone wild over him, plain- 
looking as he is ; but he has never yet taken interest 
enough in a woman even to hint that he would like 
to marry her.” 

Nina threw Miss Marsden a significant glance, 
and developed such a strong tendency to laugh that 
the young lady said, hastily : “ I should not think 
that he would be very much sought after if he had 
only his captain’s pay.” 

‘‘ But you don’t understand,” exclaimed Mrs. 
Grayley. “The Glenvilles are to leave him their 
money. He has always been a most eligible 
parti.^' 

Nina got up and sauntered down the deck, and 
Mrs. Grayley thoughtfully contemplated the sea. 

“ Do you really think he has a kind heart ? ” 
asked Miss Marsden, languidly, “ or is he just put- 
ting it on ? ” 


A LITTLE IDLE WORD. 1 93 

** The Dunmoor-Marleys said he was one of the 
nicest men that ever slept under their roof.” 

How long was he with them ? ” 

“ A week ; then he was yachting for another 
week. Jane Dunmoor-Marley says : ‘ A man that 
comes after my daughters can fool me on land, even 
in my own house ; but he can’t on my yacht. Put 
a man in a cubby-hole, and if he has any bad qual- 
ities they will come out.’ So she always takes 
aspiring suitors to sea.. You know they have no 
end of money ? ” 

“Yes, I know. How did this young man May- 
bury know Captain Eversleigh ? ” 

“ They found they had mutual friends. They 
didn’t know each other when they came on board. 
Maybury is half English, anyway. His mother was 
a Sefton of Suffolk.” 

“ Was she ? He seems to be devoted to his new 
friend.” 

“The Dunmoor-Marleys said Herbert Eversleigh 
was a regular man’s man. Some of his friends 
would go through fire and water for him. I guess 
Jane was sorry she didn’t get him for one of her 
girls. She has such a string of them.” 

“A string of girls — poor woman!” murmured 
Miss Marsden. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


WHAT ARE YOUR WISHES 

Nina was standing by the chart-room door, knock- 
ing daintily to attract the attention of her husband, 
who sat at his writing-table. 

“Oh, you have condescended to come at last,” 
he said, opening the door. “You have managed 
to tear yourself from your trio of friends to oblige 
me. 

“ I am always happy to oblige you with a short 
interview,” she said, suavely; “that is but a small 
concession.” 

He checked a smile. She was playing a grand 
lady and aping Miss Marsden. 

“I apologise for disturbing you,” and he, too, 
took on a grand manner ; “ but an interview was 
necessary. We shall be at the dock in two hours. 
Then there will be a general scattering, and I shall 
be busy. Will you kindly express your wishes with 
regard to your choice of domicile } ” 

“ Is it of any use for me to express my wishes,” 
194 


WHAT ARE YOUR WISHES? 


195 


she said, with the utmost sweetness, ‘‘when you 
have probably already arrived at an inalterable 
decision ? ” 

“I certainly have an invitation for you, birdie,” 
he said, kindly. 

“ An invitation ” and her eyebrows went up. 
“ May I ask from whom 1 ” 

“From Lady Forrest.” 

“ Lady Forrest ! ” 

“Yes; she would like you to spend a fortnight 
with her.” 

He saw that his young wife was secretly pleased, 
although she said, coolly enough, “ That little quiet 
woman ! I have scarcely spoken to her.” 

“ She has been about with you, has she not, while 
you and your dear friends were having your musicales, 
and you have been civil to her ? ” 

“ Such trifling things : only to get her a seat, or 
talk to her when she looked lonely.” 

“The trifling things are the ones that count. It 
would be a good place for you to visit. They are 
sound people, though Sir Henry is a bit of a snob.” 

“ Suppose I do not care for this visit, what plan 
have you in your wisdom arranged for me } ” 

“ If you were a model wife you would not ask for 
plans.” 


196 


HER SAILOR. 


“ May I ask what your idea of a model wife’s duty 
would be just now ? ” 

** A regular story-book wife,” he said, banteringly, 
‘‘hangs around her husband’s neck, and exclaims, 
‘Take me with you! I cannot be parted from 
you I ’ ” 

Nina bridled, sat up a trifle straighter, and said, 
conventionally, although demurely : “ Take into con- 
sideration the fact that a model wife has usually a 
model husband.” 

“ Right you are,” he said, idly tearing in pieces an 
envelope that he took from the table. Presently he 
looked up. “ Have you been quite happy the last 
few days } ” 

“ Quite happy, thank you.” 

“You seem to have been having a lively time.” 

“Very lively; Miss Marsden is charming.” 

“And Mr. Maybury.” 

“Mr. Maybury, too,” and she gave him a steely 
glance from the corner of her eye, that made his 
blood thrill in his veins. She was furious with him, 
but she was getting over her babyish habit of explod- 
ing into wrath on every available occasion. She had 
missed his devotion. So very warm the first part of 
the voyage, so very cold the latter. With the sensi- 
tiveness of her sex, she had resented the change in 


WHAT ARE YOUR WISHES? 1 97 

his conduct that had drawn upon her the comment 
of outsiders. Perhaps the captain was not, after 
all, so wrapped up in his pretty wife, the passen- 
gers would observe ; and very likely they had 
been expressing their pity in some unostenta- 
tious way that she would be quick to notice and 
to resent, and that would make her more wrathy 
with him. 

** Suppose I do not wish to visit the Forrests,” 
she was saying, in a hard voice. Is there no other 
place for me ” 

Apart from me, you would say, birdie,” he 
remarked, gently. ^‘Yes, you may board some- 
where in Liverpool, or, if I get a chance, I will 
send you on to London.” 

Why could I not go with Miss Marsden ? ” 

** She is going to visit relatives. She would not 
care to have you tagging after her.” 

But I suppose there are hotels in London.” 

Yes, a few ; but with your recently acquired 
worldly wisdom it is remarkable that it does not 
occur to you that, at your age, and with your 
inexperience, travelling alone would be attended 
by numberless difficulties. Englishwomen are re- 
served. You could not strike up friendships here 
as you could in America.” 


198 


HER SAILOR. 


** I wish I were in America,” she said, with sudden 
heat. 

So do I, birdie. I am sorry I brought you with 
me.” 

His calm remark threw her into a sudden confused 
surprise, to cover which she asked, quickly, “ What 
are you going to do with yourself ^ ” 

** 1 shall stay here for some days, then take a run 
over to Paris, I think.” 

*<And — and when shall I see you.?” she fal- 
tered. 

“Any time you drop me a line. If I don’t get 
one I will run in and say good-bye the evening 
before we are off to sea again. That will be about 
ten days hence.” 

“But I, — what am I to do .? ” 

“You want to stay in England, don’t you .? ” 

“Yes — no — I don’t know.” 

“ As you are here, you might as well stay for 
awhile,” he said, good-humouredly. “ I will find some 
middle-aged lady to chaperone you, and you can 
travel a bit.” 

“ But I don’t like this country. I want to go back 
to America.” 

“ Do you want to go with me .? ” 

She made no response, and he continued, “ I can’t 


WHAT ARE YOUR WISHES? 1 99 

let you go with any other person. I think you had 
better wait over a trip.” 

Very well,” she said, with a return to composure, 

I will visit Lady Forrest. Shall I go and see her 
now ? ” 

He nodded, then as she rose he said, softly, 
“ Won’t you kiss your husband, little girl, before you 
leave him ” 

She flung up her head. Wilfulness, wounded 
pride, and obstinacy were working within her. She 
knew now that, although his homage was distasteful 
to her, she had been disturbed by the discontinuance 
of it. And he was speaking coolly of leaving her. 
She did not know whether he was in earnest or not. 
And she was to write to him if she wished to see 
him. Did he forget that that was a reversal of the 
natural order of things ? The man should seek the 
woman, not the woman the man. Well, she could 
convey a lesson to him on that point. 

“ When I wish to kiss you, I will come to you,” 
she said, frigidly. 

She expected this cut to have the effect of repuls- 
ing him, for he was following her to the door, but 
it did not. 

** Do you know, soulless wax doll,” he asked, put- 
ting his head on one side, and trying to appear 


200 


HER SAILOR. 


pathetic, why Lady Forrest presented me with that 
invitation instead of you ? ” 

Why, no,” replied Nina, coming to an abrupt 
stop, and looking considerably disturbed. “ So she 
should have asked me. I am married — I never 
thought — ” 

“ She came upon me a day ago,” pursued Captain 
Fordyce, in the same meaning voice ; “ you were all 
singing in the music-room. I was behind the bars 
outside like an angel cast out of paradise.” 

“ A fallen angel,” whispered Nina. 

** Fallen or unfallen, I was there. She came on 
me in her quiet way. She sees more than one thinks 
for. She was sorry for me because I was — ” 

** Don’t say that word,” exclaimed the girl, harshly ; 

I can’t endure it.” 

What word, birdie ? ” 

That hateful word — you do it on purpose. 
You want to play upon my feelings,” she said, pas- 
sionately ; “ I will not have it.” 

“ Upon my life,” he interposed, with an air of 
genuine bewilderment, I don’t know what it is.” 

“ It is ‘ lonely,’ and you are not ‘ lonely,* — you 
cannot be. There are people all around you. You 
are always busy. I think you are perfectly hor — 
horrid to me,” and with her air of fine ladyhood all 


WHAT ARE YOUR WISHES? 


201 


gone she went stumbling down the steps. She had 
not changed so much, after all. 

A few hours later her voyage across the Atlantic 
was already a thing of the past. Seated beside Sir 
Hervey and Lady Forrest, she was being driven 
swiftly through the streets of Liverpool to their 
home on the borders of Prince’s Park. Sir Hervey 
was fussing about the exactions of custom-house 
officers, his wife was patiently listening to him ; so 
♦ Nina had leisure for allowing her mind to run back- 
ward and dwell on the occurrences of the last few 
hours. 

It had cost her a severe pang to part from her 
travelling companions. Perhaps it was on account 
of Miss Marsden’s kindness to her. Some day, 
though, they were to meet again. Her new friend 
had assured her of that. 

Captain Eversleigh had also taken leave of her 
with the utmost friendliness ; and Mr. Maybury had 
promised to visit Rubicon Meadows sometime for 
the fishing. Everybody had been kind but ’Steban, 
— the hard-hearted ’Steban. Only a brief, “Good- 
bye, Nina, take care of yourself,” and he was gone. 
He might have been a little tender at the last, espe- 
cially as there were strangers about, — strangers who 
were observing and critical. Well, possibly absence 


202 


HER SAILOR. 


would bring him to his senses, and he would find 
the happy medium between excessive devotion and 
cold neglect. 

The carriage stopped. They were approaching 
one of Cowper’s “ Citizen-delighting, suburban villas 
— highwayside retreats.” The footman descended 
from his box, sprang to the carriage door, and Nina 
found herself meekly following Lady Forrest into a 
house that at first blush seemed to her a dream of 
grandeur. 


CHAPTER XV. 


WHAT IS LOVE.? 

A WEEK went by, a week of mingled delight and 
torture for Nina. She had never, outside novels, 
participated in entertainments as fine as those to 
which she was taken. The theatre was a revelation, 
the shops a long drawn out pleasure, and calls, tea- 
drinkings, dinner-parties, and drives into the country 
kept her in an almost continual state of enchanted 
and suppressed enjoyment. But yet she was not 
perfectly happy. Her pleasant hours were inter- 
spersed with melancholy ones. One day Lady 
Forrest, casting down her mouse-coloured eyes in 
her unobtrusive fashion, murmured, ** I think I will 
give a dinner-party the day after to-morrow, my dear. 
A young man of very distinguished family for whom 
my husband has been investing money is in the city. 
Would you like me to invite your husband .? It will 
be quite a small affair.’^ 

Nina’s heart leaped for joy; but she merely said. 


203 


204 


HER SAILOR. 


** Thank you, Lady Forrest, I wish you would ask 
him to come.” 

Two evenings later she flung open her wardrobe, 
dismissed the maid Lady Forrest had sent to help 
her dress, and threw every gown she possessed on 
the bed. Which should it be } There was a great 
deal in dress, these Englishwomen told her. A be- 
coming gown had been known to decide the fate of 
a kingdom. What about that pretty green thing 
that ’Steban had bought for her in Boston ? The 
lace frills were certainly becoming. She tried it on, 
then dashed it on a chair. Fie ! the trying thing ! 
She looked positively hideous. Well, there was a 
dove-coloured silk open at the throat. It would be 
a crime to put on a high-necked dress in this house- 
hold ; though it was a fortunate thing that Mamma 
Danvers could not see her. She would be shocked 
to death. 

In half an hour she was red in the face, her teeth 
were worrying her under lip, and she was half-crying 
from vexation. Nothing suited her, nothing fitted. 
Everything was trying to her complexion, rasping to 
her nerves. 

The maid knocked at her door, and she irritably 
called, ** Come in.” 

I would better assist you, ma’am,” the newcomer 


WHA T IS LOVE? 205 

observed, civilly ; ‘‘ dinner will be served in ten min- 
utes. Lady Forrest has long since gone down.” 

Put on that,” said Nina, desperately, and she 
indicated a sprigged and washed white muslin frock. 

‘*That, ma’am ? ” said the woman, in faint surprise. 

“ Yes,” said the girl, choking back a sigh. ‘‘ It is 
a Rubicon Meadows frock, — the place I come from. 
My husband is coming. I think he would like to see 
me in it.” 

Would you just try this, ma’am, first,” and the 
woman laid her hand on a white silk production of 
an American dressmaker’s skill. 

That ! it is too plain and it makes me tall and 
hideous and like a ghost ! ” exclaimed the girl. 

“Will you just try it.^” coaxed the woman. 
“ Your colour is rising.” 

Nina’s refractoriness ceased, and she resignedly 
bent her head. In a trice the woman’s deft fingers 
had fastened the gown in the back, arranged the 
chiffon, bib-like draperies in front, and straightened 
out the folds of the soft, clinging skirt. 

“ Now your slippers, ma’am,” and she deftly 
clasped them on Nina’s tiny feet. “And just one 
look in the mirror,” and she turned a watchful eye 
toward the clock. 

“ All in white,” and Nina slowly twirled before 


206 


HER SAILOR. 


her cheval-glass. ** It is not as bad as I thought 
it would be.” 

The woman discreetly held her peace, and began 
tidying the room. The girl, ordinarily only pretty, 
was a beauty this evening. Something had animated 
her, and made her cheeks burn and her eyes glow. 
Now she was running back. What had she forgotten 
— her handkerchief ? and the maid hastily opened a 
drawer. 

No, not a handkerchief, for she was waving a mor- 
sel of lace in her hand. “ I want to thank you for 
helping me dress, Mrs. Morris,” she said, graciously. 

“Beg pardon, ma’am, but you’ll be late if you 
don’t go down,” said the woman, who, as a well- 
trained English domestic, knew better than to allow 
this youthful American married lady to beguile her 
into any familiarity with her superiors. 

However, she was secretly gratified by the flat- 
tering prefix tacked to her usually abbreviated name, 
and she slipped into the hall to see the young Ameri- 
can lady enter the drawing-room. 

She was shaking hands in the hall with a rather 
stout, thick-set man of middle age, — a dark, re- 
served-looking man who must be her husband. 
“ A wonder’ he does not kiss her,” soliloquised the 
woman, “since they are alone.” 


WHAT IS LOVE? 


207 


But he did not kiss her, and the girl hurriedly 
preceded him into the drawing-room, from whence 
Morris presently saw the company come arm in 
arm on their way to the dining-room. 

Mrs. Fordyce was not with her husband. She was 
escorted by a barrister well-known to the house. 
The guest of honour, the honourable Arthur Graves- 
ham, fourth son of the Earl of Greenfell, was in 
front with Lady Forrest. He was not much to look 
at, and with a yawn the woman went to her sewing. 
This was not a grand dinner-party. The gowns were 
not worth noticing, and as for that black-moustached 
husband of the girl she had just dressed, he was 
in an evening suit at least three years old in cut. 
No gentleman wore lapels of that shape now. 

Nina’s head was swimming, yet outwardly she 
was an iceberg. She wondered whether her husband 
was admiring her. Did he see how quickly and how 
completely she had acquired the reserved, distin- 
guished air of the Englishwomen about her } How 
little she spoke, and in what a low, sweet voice. 
How mincingly she ate, and with what tiny, tiny 
mouthfuls; and at dessert she would show him 
that she could quite well cut an apple with a knife 
and fork, instead of gnawing it with her pearly 
teeth. 


208 


HER SAILOR. 


To her chagrin, he was not devouring her with his 
eyes. Something had happened. Something had 
come between them since they parted. He was 
not unkind nor unloving, he was simply absent- 
minded ; and he was fighting against it with all 
his might ; and she keenly watched him as he strove 
to throw off his burden of thought, whatever it was, 
and devote himself to the young lady that he had 
taken in to dinner. 

She was an English girl, a neighbour of the 
Forrests, and Nina had had some previous ac- 
quaintance with her. 

‘^’Steban calls me a doll,” she indignantly re- 
flected ; the doll is beside him. I know more in 
ten minutes than that girl does in a year; and she 
is ten months older than I am. I guess she must 
have been brought up on pap. He seems to like to 
hear her talk. He is quite thawing. Yes, indeed, 
I admire the English climate immensely,” and she 
turned to the barrister who was addressing her. It 
keeps one so interested. You never know what is 
going to happen. It is like the servant question in 
America. One discusses it all the time.” 

There were no apples for dessert, and by the time 
the other fruit provided had reached the table, Nina 
was in a high state of irritation. She had an addi- 


WHAT IS LOVE? 


209 


tional cause to bring it on ; for, coupled with her 
husband’s neglect, was his strange indifference to an 
insult that was being offered him. 

She, too, had noticed that his coat was not of the 
latest cut. Then he was neither a professional man 
nor a rich man ; and the men surrounding them were 
either the one or the other, or both, or of aristo- 
cratic connection like Mr. Gravesham. With con- 
siderable keenness, and great personal displeasure, 
she had been ferreting into the question of class 
distinctions, hitherto an unknown subject to her. 
She hated the system. One person was as good 
as another in her estimation; and this talk of law, 
medicine, the army, and the church, as being the 
only walks in life for gentlemen, made her sick. 
Certainly these cold-hearted patricians about the 
table regarded her husband as lower in rank than 
themselves. They also had a well-bred way of 
observing her that she did not like. And her 
husband did not resent his supposed inferiority. 
It made her blood boil that he should be so meek. 
She wished that he would dash his napkin on the 
table, and rush from the house. And now some 
one was actually calling him by his last name. 
This was too much for flesh and blood to bear, 
and her bright eyes and sharp ears immediately 


210 


HER SAILOR. 


went to locate the clear-spoken and oft-recurring 
‘‘ Fordyce ! ” 

It was that odious son of an earl. He had en- 
gaged her husband in a discussion of some points 
connected with yachting. Well, she would give 
him a lesson ; and she immediately lost her superb 
manner and became lively and animated. 

Her neighbours regarded her with indulgence. 
She was an American girl, far more variable and 
vivacious than an English one. Far more entertain- 
ing, the young barrister confided to his inmost soul. 
If this dainty, laughing creature were not married, 
he himself might be tempted to try his luck. 
Might he — he would do nothing precipitately. But 
hold — what was the dainty creature saying ? 

She was addressing the Honourable Arthur 
Gravesham, actually addressing him across the table 
in a most familiar and disrespectful manner ; and he 
held his breath to hear. 

Nina’s exasperation had reached its last stage. 
She did not know that Mr. Gravesham had a fixed 
habit of mentioning the names of persons with whom 
he conversed ; and that his satisfaction at finding her 
husband’s views with regard to the size and build of 
yachts entirely coincided with his own was exhibiting 
itself in a more and more frequent use of his name. 


WHAT IS LOVE? 


2II 


Nina’s watchful eye never left him, and during one 
of the dignified pauses of his conversation she fixed 
him with a deceitfully gentle and supplicating stare, 
and said, distinctly, “ Gravesham, please pass me the 
preserved ginger.” 

The young barrister was not the only one whose 
attention turned in dismay upon her. Sir Hervey 
opened and shut his mouth like an overheated fish, 
and as for the Honourable Arthur Gravesham, he 
settled his glasses more firmly on the bridge of his 
aristocratic nose, and said, feebly, I beg your 
pardon.” 

said, Gravesham, please pass the preserved 
ginger,” she repeated, in a distinct voice, and allow- 
ing a mild and inquiring gaze to wander around the 
table as if to ask why all these people had suddenly 
become interested in her. 

Only Lady Forrest was smiling her quiet smile 
as she watched her. Sir Hervey had become cool 
enough to gasp, in an explanatory way, ‘‘Hem — 
hem — Mrs. Fordyce, American — not used to our 
customs.” 

Nina immediately addressed him, “Have I said 
anything wrong, Forrest ” 

He grew redder and more inclined to choke and 
splutter. What a fortunate thing that the servants 


212 


HER SAILOR. 


had left the room. You forget the handles to our 
names, that is all. It is ' Mr. Gravesham ’ and < Sir 
Hervey,’ not ‘ Gravesham ’ and ‘ Forrest.’ ” 

“Oh, thank you,” said Nina, with infantine grace. 
“ I heard Mr. Gravesham calling my husband by his 
last name, and I thought it was the custom here. It 
is not American, I assure you. We call everybody 
at home ‘Mr.’ — even the butcher. I am sure I 
apologise to you both. I will not offend again, Mr. 
Gravesham and Sir Hervey ! ” and with a slight and 
most becoming confusion she quietly continued her 
dinner. 

Mr. Gravesham was sulky and would talk no more, 
and Sir Hervey was discomposed and a little trifle 
discontented with his usual favourite ; but no one 
else took the occurrence to heart. Lady Forrest 
was talking amiably and obliviously to her neigh- 
bours, and at last Captain Fordyce’s attention was 
concentrated on the bowed head of his young wife. 
She had effectually roused him from his abstraction, 
— the dear little rude, jealous thing. After dinner 
he would have a settlement with her, and in his old 
satisfaction he threw his burden of black care from 
him, and followed her with his eyes as she left the 
room with the other ladies. 

Where was she .? He was one of the first men tp 


WHAT IS LOVE? 


213 


leave the dining-room, but she was neither in the 
drawing-room nor in the conservatory. think I 
saw her going into the garden,” murmured Lady 
Forrest. “You will find a wrap in the hall. You 
would do well to take it to her.” 

Captain Fordyce strolled out into the garden. It 
was not a large one, and she was certainly not in it. 
He walked to and fro. Then placing himself in full 
view of the drawing-room windows so that she could 
come to him if she chose to do so, he sat down on 
a seat and with a weary “ Heigh ho ! ” took out a 
cigar. 

“ Heigh ho, here we go, over the sea to the 
land of the free,” echoed a bantering voice above 
him. 

He looked up. There among the spreading 
branches of a resplendent copper beech overhead 
was his wife. She was at her old trick of climbing 
trees. And in that hundred dollar gown, and his 
mind lately drawn to pecuniary matters again grew 
burdened. 

However, it would not do to let her see his 
anxiety, so he said, quietly : “ Why did you go up 
there, Nina.^*” 

“Because I was afraid you would scold me,” she 
said, with mock solemnity. 


214 


HER SAILOR. 


‘‘What about?” 

“ About chivying the noble son of an earL” 

“You were not polite.” 

“Then let him give you your proper title,” she 
said, hotly. “He doesn’t like to be called by his last 
name.” 

“ They don’t mean anything by it here,” said her 
husband, wearily. “ Different countries, different 
customs. Whenever I carry grandees on the 
Merrimac they call me by my surname.” 

“They won’t do it when I am about,” she said, 
with decision. “ You are as good as anybody. What 
is the matter with you this evening ? ” 

“ Nothing,” he said, with assumed animation. 

“Yes, there is. You’ve had bad news of some 
kind.” 

“ Did I show it ? ” he asked, with chagrin. 

“ Oh, no, not very much, but I knew.” 

His face softened. “ It’s nothing, Nina.” 

“You’ve fallen in love with some other woman.” 

“ Good heavens, no — yes, I mean, I have.” 

“You’ve lost some money.” 

He lighted his cigar, began smoking it, and not 
until teased and worried by questions rained on him 
from above did he ejaculate, “ Suppose I have. 
There’s my salary.” 


WHAT IS LOVE? 


215 


** How much did you lose ? ” 

“ Come down from that tree, Nina. Somebody 
might come out from the house and you would be 
remarked.” 

‘‘ This is a very nice country,” she returned, cheer- 
fully and irrelevantly. 

‘‘ I am glad you like it.” 

“That is a fine house,” she said, waving her hand 
toward the stone erection beyond them. “It is a 
pleasant thing to have a butler and footmen and 
plenty of maids.” 

He grunted something inaudible, and stared up 
pityingly at the white cloud among the glowing 
leaves above him. 

“ And to know how to pour out tea so nicely and 
properly, and talk about the theatres and the royal 
family, and the news from the Continent,, and our 
American cousins, and never do anything wrong 
or think anything improper, and be admired and 
sought after, and love everybody and have everybody 
love you.” 

He smoked on in grim silence, until she asked, 
tenderly, “ Captain Fordyce, can you ever build me a 
house like that } ” 

“ Oh, yes,” he said, derisively. 

“Can you give me a carriage lined with gray 


2i6 


HER SAILOR. 


cushions, with a clock in it, and a hand-glass, and 
cunning little footstools ? ” 

He would not answer her. 

**And a palace in a park like the Earl of Some- 
body or Other’s over across the river.?” and she waved 
her hand toward the Mersey. 

‘‘And heaps of fine gowns,” she continued, “silks, 
and satins, and velvets trimmed with pearls and dia- 
monds and rubies .? And I want to be presented at 
Court and have a house in London.” 

“You are modest in your wishes,” he said, between 
his closed teeth. 

She laid her cheek against the tree trunk, and whis- 
pered, “ How much money did you lose, ’Steban .? ” 

“ I lost a trifle that I had laid up for old age.” 

“ Whose old age ? ” 

“ Yours.” 

“ What about your own ? ” 

“I shall not have any. All our family die young.” 

She raised her head to the sky, but could not see it 
for the thick green thatch above her. “ ’Steban,” she 
said, in silvery tones, “men aren’t like women, are 
they .? ” 

“ Not much.” 

“ If I were a woman in love and had lost money, I 
would still think of the man I was fond of ; but when 


WHAT IS LOVE? 21 / 

you think of your business, I fly right out of your 
mind.” 

Women would be a heap better off if they didn’t 
stew so much over their love affairs.” 

She was dropping purplish brown leaves on him 
one by one. When a large-sized one took the ashes 
off the end of his cigar, she laughed gaily, and in a 
heart-whole fashion, and said, <*’Steban, I believe 
you’ve lost every cent of money you’ve saved.” 

‘‘No, I haven’t,” he growled. 

“ How much have you left } ” 

“ It’s that confounded McGray in New York,” 
he said, in abrupt and deep-seated resentment. 
“He’s absconded. I trusted him — thought he was 
a sure thing on investments. I can’t watch the 
markets from the Atlantic. There will be a lot of 
our line out by him.” 

“ Poor captains ! ” murmured Nina. Then bending 
low down on her branch, she said, pleadingly : 

“ ’Steban, tell me all about it.” 

“You would not understand. I have said all I 
am going to say.” 

She straightened herself suddenly, and exclaimed, 
with a martyr-like air, “ I have done nothing, yet I 
must suffer ! ” 

He smoked on, sulking over his losses, yet con- 


2i8 


HER SAILOR. 


soled slightly by the presence of his wood-nymph 
in the tree overhead. Now she was leaning down 
again, hanging on by her hands and feet like a 
monkey, and dropping her light head to within a 
short distance of him. And what was she whisper- 
ing with such delicate softness and grace Some- 
thing more about the money, and he threw away 
the stump of his cigar and ejaculated a prosaic 
Hey ? ” 

’Steban,” she whispered again, what is love ” 

He was not in a condition of mind to expatiate on 
the beauties of the ardent attraction of one human 
being for another. Recognising this, she went on, 
in the same low voice : “ You’re nothing but a plain, 
every-day, commonplace sort of man. There’s no 
poetry in your nature, never was, and never will be. 
I will tell you what love is ; ” and moving farther 
out on the limb that she had chosen for her resting- 
place, she lightly jogged up and down, and began a 
joyful monologue. 

‘‘This is love. You are a girl not very old, not 
very young. You fall in love with a man. Some 
one else wants to marry you — a good many other 
persons want to marry you. You look at this one ; 
you say, ‘No, my dear sir, you won’t do. You must 
have long arms and a short temper, and a bronze 


tVHAT IS LOVE? 


^19 

face and black eyes like shoe buttons. That light 
hair and that curly moustache won’t do ; and to make 
you perfect, you must have a tiny, a very tiny, bald 
spot in the middle of your head. And you must be 
hateful and snappish sometimes, not always sweet 
and pleasant, because then I would get tired of you. 
And. you must be poor and have to work hard just 
like a dog, because that will keep you out of mis- 
chief. And you musn’t live in a grand house. No, 
no, sir, you are too rich. I could never take care 
of all that grand furniture. House-cleaning would 
quite upset me ; and I hate fine clothes and white 
kid gloves. It would frighten me to own all those 
things ; and I just detest sitting up straight and 
keeping my lips pursed up in a smile. I would 
rather have meadows, nice big meadows to run 
over, or the deck of a ship — ’ ’Steban, what are 
you doing } ” and she ceased her singsong revela- 
tion and her swinging at the same time, and glared 
down at him. 

I am coming up,” he said, casting an apprehen- 
sive glance at the house as he balanced himself on 
the back of the seat. “ I suppose I am a fool for it, 
but you are a regular, possessed little magnet.” 

** Have you forgotten about your money } ” she 
asked, exhibiting two rows of gleeful white teeth. 


220 


HER SAILOR. 


Confound the money,” he responded, stoutly. 

She laughed long and delightedly, but in the 
midst of her amusement deliberately kept ascending 
higher and higher, never allowing her laughter to 
prevent her from searching out sure places for her 
feet. 

Her husband kept his eye on her, yet did not 
caution her. She was as sure-footed as one of his 
sailor lads. Now she was singing to him : 

“ ‘ Husband, husband, cease your strife. 

Nor longer idly rave, sir; 

Though I am your wedded wife. 

Yet I am not your slave, sir.’ 

“ Go on ! ” she exclaimed, when she had finished. 

** I can’t,” he said, shortly. “ Nina, stop there. I 
won’t have you climb farther.” 

‘‘ Men in books always know the next verse,” she 
said, unheedingly : 

“ ‘ One of two must still obey, 

Nancy, Nancy; 

Is it man or woman, say. 

My spouse Nancy?’ 

** It’s man, always man,” she tittered. ‘‘ When I 
was married I didn’t say, love, honour, and obey. 
I said love, honour, and sway — and, ’Steban, you 


WHAT IS LOVE? 


221 


must be swayed. Stay where you are,” and she 
tossed off a white kid slipper that, to her delight, 
struck him on the shoulder before it went leaping 
down to the grass. 

“Nina,” he said, commandingly, “did you mean 
all that just now; or is it only your condemned 
nonsense } ” 

She ran her arm around a branch, and waggishly 
put her two hands up to her mouth after the manner 
of a speaking-trumpet. “ Officer of the watch, — go 
ask that damsel if she loves me. If so, well, always 
well. If not, cast her in the hold and let her in irons 
repent her folly.” 

“You do love me,” he muttered. “You shall go 
home with me to-night. You have come to your 
senses at last.” 

“The man I love has golden hair,” she chanted 
from the tree-top ; “ if you meet him anywhere, tell 
him I send a loving kiss, a hearty, hearty prayer 
that he will come and see me soon, and with me 
tread the heavenly mead of love’s sweet visions fair. 
A sailor dark, with purpose fell, does strive to tear 
me from my love, my buxom love with golden hair.” 

Captain Fordyce cautiously took a step up, utter- 
ing an expletive under his breath, as he heard a 
warning rip in the region of his knee. 


222 


HER SAILOR. 


“ ‘ You’ll rend your attire 
If you come higher ! ’ ” 

sang the girl, saucily. 

“ ‘ Better go back, 

There’s a tailor on your track, 

And you haven’t got a cent to pay him with,’ ” 

she continued. Then she put her head on one side 
and watched him. ’Steban’s troubles were over. 
He had seated himself crosswise on one of the 
stout arms of the tree, and was giving himself up 
to a beatific survey of the white silk foot above him. 
Then he waxed sentimental. ‘‘Nina,’' he said, de- 
lightedly, “you have found out that you love me — 
you love me.” 

“There are courts in the temple of love,” she 
said, with sudden gravity. “ I have only entered the 
outermost one.” 

“ Did you make that up ” he asked, rapturously. 
“Is it original ? ” 

“ What does it matter whether it grew in my mind 
or another person’s .? ” 

“ Darling ! ” he ejaculated, foolishly ; and he tried to 
seize the slipperless foot dangling within a yard of him. 

Seemingly within his reach, it was immediately 
withdrawn. 


WHAT IS LOVE? 


223 


He sat for a few minutes in ecstatic silence ; then 
he began to beg her to descend. For fully ten min- 
utes he lavished on her flattery, endearing words, 
and offers of gifts, dear to feminine hearts, that he 
would bestow on her in return for the very smallest, 
fleetest, most evanescent thing in the shape of a ca- 
ress. 

She stared unheedingly up at the sky, and when 
he brought his eloquent words to a close, she said, 
‘‘ I see a boat in the moon. It is waiting for a bad 
sailor who has broken his word for the first time in 
his life.” 

Captain Fordyce hastily pulled out his watch and 
a match-case. Yes, his boat was at the landing- 
stage waiting to take him to the Merrimac. 

“ I must go,” he said, hurriedly. “ When shall I 
come for you, Nina ? ” 

‘‘The man in the moon says haste is folly, delay 
is wisdom, and to take a leap in the dark is a sure 
landing in the midst of difficulties.” 

“ There will be plenty of light, Nina,” he pleaded. 
“ Come, now, say good night to Lady Forrest and 
come home with me.” 

“No, thank you, Mr. Lantern,” she replied, de- 
cidedly. 

“It’s confoundedly lonely on the Merrimac^' he 


224 


HER SAILOR. 


went on. “ I miss my little girl till I am half-dead 
for the sight of her. I am lonely, lonely — ” and 
he dwelt on the word that he thought had power to 
afflict her. 

Lonely,” she repeated, with a shiver of delight, 
most beautiful word in the American language, for 
it implies future consolation. Put your cheek against 
the tree trunk.” 

He obeyed her, trying at the same time to roll his 
eyes upward. The experiment was not a success, 
and she exclaimed, Look at me, you foolish man. 
It will slip down to you.” 

She was kissing the trunk in tender intoxication. 
Give him this if you meet him, my love with golden 
hair. Tell him I will come to him when I get my 
diamond slippers and my chariot of silver. But they 
have to be made to order, and they are not ready 
yet — ’Steban, I don’t want to be impolite, but you 
had really better be getting home.” 

He gave her one last, long, lingering look and 
slipped down the trunk. 

“ Good-bye — till I see you again — farewell — 
adieu,” she called after him, au revoir, heaven 
bless you — auf wiedersehen but he strode away 
without a backward glance, 


CHAPTER XVI. 


PERNICIOUS WORDS IMPREGNED WITH REASON. 

Who that has visited has not suffered from the 
overattentiveness of too kind hosts 

The Forrests were so exceedingly good, so ex- 
ceedingly devoted, so exceedingly painstaking, that 
Nina sometimes fled to the shelter of her own room 
and longed for anything — even some startling occur- 
rence — to deliver her out of their hands. But she 
would not sound the note of her own deliverance : 
so for a few days longer she rambled about the 
proper, stiff garden that, however, had not had all 
beauty expressed out of it ; helped Lady Forrest 
entertain her callers ; went for drives with her or 
for long aimless walks with a servant always at her 
heels. 

This latter proceeding she protested warmly against, 
but found herself running her head into a ukase of 
her husband. He had specially requested that she 
should never be permitted to go out unaccompanied, 
and perforce she must endure the society of Lady 
225 


226 


HER SAILOR. 


Forrest’s abigail, although she was longing for sol- 
itude, and the companionship only of her own new 
and exacting thoughts. 

This evening, however, she was alone. Sir Hervey 
and Lady Forrest, after earnest protestations on her 
part, that she should not suffer from loneliness during 
their absence, had been persuaded to go to the 
theatre; and, deeply thankful for the uninterrupted 
enjoyment of her own society, Nina sat drinking her 
after-dinner coffee in the drawing-room. 

It was a sultry evening. The scent of the flow- 
ers coming in through the open window was almost 
putting her to sleep. Under drowsy eyelids she 
watched the curtain swaying gently in the breeze 
when a sudden step outside made her straighten 
herself. 

‘‘ The postman ! ” she ejaculated, “ bless him — he 
has saved me from going to sleep.” 

But it was not the postman. There was a pause, 
then the footsteps came nearer the window, and 
she saw standing between the curtains an uninterest- 
ing-looking man whom she barely noticed until com- 
pelled to do so by his fixed scrutiny of her. 

Then she examined him. He was neither tall nor 
short. He had a quiet, tired face, a slight sneer 
and sloping shoulders, — becoming in a woman, but 


PERNICIOUS WORDS. 22 / 

an evidence of weak-mindedness in a man. He was 
, evidently interested in her in spite of his bored man- 
ner. She was not flattered, however, and said, coolly : 
‘‘You will find a footman at the hall door.” 

“ I beg your pardon,” he said, in a full, smooth 
tone and removing his hat, “ but it is you I wish to 
see.” 

“ Oh, indeed ! ” she said, in surprise ; then she 
asked, hesitatingly, “ Will you come in } ” 

He murmured, “ I thank you,” entered the room, 
grasped a chair, and in an absent-minded way drew 
it nearer her, and sat down, without having once 
interrupted his scrutiny of her face. 

Finally he muttered to himself in quiet satisfaction : 
“ She will do — might even create a sensation.” 

The beginning of his scrutiny found Nina a happy, 
contented, though slightly embarrassed young per- 
son ; the end of it left her a creature panic-stricken 
and consumed with apprehensive fear. 

The man before her was mad. Only that morning 
Lady Forrest had been telling her that in the very 
next house lived a rich, middle-aged merchant whose 
reason was affected, but so slightly that it was not 
considered necessary to put him under restraint. 
Now he had escaped from the surveillance of his 
relatives, and had come to torment her, and in all 


228 


HER SAILOR. 


the wide earth he could not have found a person 
with a more strongly rooted, morbid aversion to mad 
people than she had. 

Her head seemed bursting with her intensity of 
thought. What should she do to rid herself of him ? 
She dared not ring the bell and ask a servant to 
show him out. It was dangerous to cross the whims 
of a madman ; and, with a shudder, she pictured a 
sudden lapse into anger on his part, and the breaking 
of Lady Forrest’s gilt furniture. 

Well, some unexpected way of deliverance might 
open. In the meantime, she must force herself 
into composure, and try to keep him in good 
humour. 

Fortunate for her was it that he appeared a cheer- 
ful madman. One of the gloomy, raving kind would 
send her into hysterics. 

“ You seem frightened,” he said, in dulcet tones ; 
‘‘but you will be quite free from fear when I tell you 
who I am.” 

His manner was inviting. He wanted her to 
urge him on in proclaiming his identity, and, al- 
though she had no burning curiosity on the sub- 
ject, she thought it politic to murmur, faintly, “And 
who are you V 

“ Don’t scream nor cry out,” he said, putting up 


PERNICIOUS WORDS. 


229 


one hand by way of caution ; then leaning forward, 
and in an assumed and melodramatic voice, he ut- 
tered the words, “ I am your father.” 

Oh ! her father only. She was prepared to hear 
the Shah of Persia or the Emperor of Japan. So 
his warning was unnecessary. All that she could 
do now in the way of making a noise would be to 
emit a faint, a very faint, squeak ; but she was for- 
getting his peculiar affliction, and, summoning all her 
forces, she tried to bring a look of astonishment to 
her blank face. 

Her effort was evidently crowned with success, 
for with a flattered air he went on : ‘‘Yes, you were 
stolen from me when you were a baby. Where has 
Fordyce been hiding you all these years ? ” 

The mention of her husband’s name threw Nina 
into a state of mingled resentment, terror, and anger. 
Could it be that she had made a mistake, — that this 
man was not mad ? Could it be that the man in 
America was a usurper, — the lonely man reading 
his paper and thinking of her ? No, there was her 
real father, she could never love another; and mad 
or not mad, she would not encourage this man. 
She hated his quiet, weary manner, his cynical 
tones. He was no relative of hers. She would 
not have him. She loved the man in America. 


230 


HER SAILOR. 


“Where has he been hiding you?” he repeated, 
patiently. 

“He has been hiding me in New York,” she 
replied, firmly, and with flashing eyes. 

“In New York?” he said, politely; “you have 
not the air of a city girl.” 

“I have been in New York,” she replied, stub- 
bornly. 

“ What part of it ? ” 

She had never been in the metropolis of the Em- 
pire State in her life, but she possessed a song cele- 
brating the charms of a certain portion of it, and 
she answered, unhesitatingly, “The Bowery.” 

Her would-be relative was no better informed 
than herself. He was a genuine cockney; so he 
asked another question, this one accompanied by 
his stealthy and habitual sneer : “ I suppose you 
have been told nothing about me ? ” 

“ Yes, ever so many things,” she answered, un- 
blushingly. 

He looked doubtful, and asked, slowly : “ Who 
has brought you up?” 

“ Some people called Jones,” said Nina, glibly. 

“ What station in life did they occupy ? ” 

“Mr. Jones ran milk wagons.” 

“ Milk wagons ? ” 


PERNICIOUS WORDS. 


231 


“Perhaps you would call them carts. Things 
with cans and bottles of milk in them, you know. 
We were not right in the city. The Bowery is a 
lovely green place with plenty of trees and a 
meadow. Our home was on it.” 

“ Oh, a place in the suburbs t ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

‘‘What did Captain Fordyce tell you about me?” 

“He didn’t tell me anything. The Joneses said 
your business kept you in England, but I should see 
you some day.” 

“ Did any report of my death reach you ? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ And yet I sent one,” he said. “ It was a father’s 
stratagem to bring his child within reach.” 

His dreamy, affectionate tone did not impose on 
the sharp-eyed young lady opposite. This man was 
playing a lazy, sentimental part, and, father or no 
father, she would not encourage him. She did not 
like those down-drooping eyes. That was the way 
she looked herself when she yrished to deceive some 
one. 

‘^You seem to have plenty of spirit,” he said, 
admiringly. 

“You must have spirit in New York,” she said, 
emphatically ; “ otherwise you get imposed on.” 


232 


HER SAILOR. 


The man’s admiration increased. She was fooling 
him — this saucy young daughter of his ; but he liked 
to be fooled by her, and with an ingratiating air he 
drew a handful of official-looking documents from 
his pocket. 

I would like to have you look over these. Then 
you will be convinced of your relationship to me.” 

To hide her angry tears, Nina mechanically 
stretched out her hand, and without understanding 
a line ran them over. Just a few words from a 
certificate of birth shone through the glancing mir- 
rors in her eyes, Bertha Anne Stenner.” 

“That is not my name,” she uttered, in a choked 
voice. 

“What name did Fordyce give you.^” asked the 
man, curiously. 

She threw up her head. “Jane Mary Jenkins.” 

“It was Jones just now,” he remarked, with quiet 
amusement. 

“Jones first, the Jenkins afterward,” she stam- 
mered. “ I didn’t live with the same people all the 
time.” 

“ I have been interested in hearing of you from a 
friend who made the trip with you,” he said, mildly. 

“ Mr. Delessert ! ” she exclaimed. 


“No; not Mr. Delessert.” 


PERNICIOUS WORDS. 


233 


It was Mr. Delessert, and she grew pale and sick 
and faint, and the words, “ A companion to gamblers,” 
ran stupidly through her mind. She did not like this 
man with his stealthy air of measuring her and sum- 
ming up her airs and graces. She felt humiliated 
and ashamed. Mr. Danvers never treated her in that 
way. She had never seen him look as this man 
looked, except upon the occasions when he had a 
fine pink and white young pig to sell, and was run- 
ning his eye over it in anticipation of the market ; 
and she flushed and quivered all over, as if she, too, 
were an unfortunate animal with a butcher’s knife 
suspended over her. But she must drive away these 
shocking thoughts and listen, for her companion was 
again addressing her. 

“I suppose it would be asking too much of you to 
accompany me to London to-night ? ” 

I should rather think so,” she said, indignantly, 
and how do I know that you are not a fraud ? ” 

His indulgent air, and the manner in which he 
waved his hand toward the papers on her lap, might 
have convinced her that he was her parent ; but she 
would not be convinced. 

^‘Then I shall wait and see Lady Forrest,” he 
said, calmly. She will comprehend the justice of 
my claim.” 


234 


HER SAILOR. 


Nina grew hot all over, and began to measure him 
from Lady Forrest’s standpoint. He was not quite 
a gentleman, in spite of his quiet manner. His black 
suit was also a trifle shabby. He must be poor, — 
this would-be father of hers ; and she writhed in in- 
ward mortification. Lady Forrest would probably 
ask him to stay all night. She would break down 
and cry if this were done. Oh, if ’Steban were only 
here ! 

This man must be got out of the house. This 
was the result of her hurried meditations. Possibly 
the Forrests would not countenance him. If they 
were hateful to him, it would kill her, for — for — 
just suppose he was her father. In snubbing him 
they would snub her. Blood was thicker than water. 
She might shrink from this man herself, yet it would 
make her angry to have him chagrined, and mortified, 
and turned away from the house. 

What was he saying ? She wished he would hold 
his peace for a little while at least, and she unwill- 
ingly bent a listening ear. Had she any accomplish- 
ments ? Could she play or sing .? 

She bowed reluctantly, swallowed a lump in her 
throat, and moved toward the piano that the stranger 
was politely opening. 

He handed her a set of popular waltzes, and with- 


PERNICIOUS WORDS, 


235 


out a word she began to play. Her angry fingers 
flew over the keys. She was not an accomplished 
musician ; but she could rattle off a composition of 
this order with a dash and brilliance that evoked 
a hearty ‘‘Well done ! ” from her undemonstrative 
companion. 

“ And now will you sing .? and Nina flinched as 
he handed her — of all songs — the hackneyed but 
touching “ Nancy Lee.” 

In a weak, trembling voice, that seemed to come 
from a far-away corner of the room, she warbled the 
strains of the familiar song until she came to the 
words, “ The sailor’s wife the sailor’s star shall be ! ” 

There, an association of ideas made her drop her 
head and have recourse to her handkerchief. Poor 
’Steban ! What a flighty, unsteady kind of a star she 
was to him. If she were a proper, steady one, she 
would at this moment be shedding her rays on him, 
instead of being involved in these clouds of doubt 
and despair. 

She received but faint sympathy in her distress. 
“ As nervous as a cat, and not half as much voice,” 
said the man, disappointedly, to himself ; then he 
strolled away to the other end of the room. 

Nina had utterly broken down. As she sat dis- 
mally weeping, the fresh night air struck her hot 


236 HER SAILOR. 

face. She raised her head. A wind had sprung up. 
The window curtains were swelling out now like — 
like the sails of the Merrimac. Oh ! if she could 
with one bound spring to the deck of that dear old 
ship, the black, safe river flowing between her and 
her perplexities, a strong arm ready to protect her, 
a strong brain willing to advise her. 

Her thoughts led to practical results. This 
strange man had evinced a persistent desire that 
she should not leave the room until the arrival of 
her host and hostess. And they would not appear 
for an hour or two. A voice seemed ringing in her 
ears : Run away from him. It is the easiest way 
out of the difficulty both for you and for him.” 
And he could never overtake her, — this man with 
the puffy, white face and sloping shoulders. He 
looked as if the greater part of his life had been 
spent indoors, and she had been brought up in 
the meadows, where she had learned to run like 
the small, wild creatures hidden there. 

A fair start was all she asked for, yet it would be 
as well to have him handicapped, and she glanced 
over her shoulder. He was in a distant alcove now, 
examining the contents of a cabinet, and — let her 
rejoice, therefore — he was sitting down ; and a whole 
drawer full of coins reposed on his knees. 


PERNICIOUS WORDS. 


237 


She would make a wild dash for liberty, but first 
she must deceive him, and, rising languidly, she 
drawled, “ I will walk outside a minute. I am stifled 
here.” 

He looked up, hastily and suspiciously, but her 
movements were deliberation itself, as she stepped 
through the open French window and out on the 
gravel walk. 

“ I will accompany you,” he ejaculated, but by the 
time he reached the window she had disappeared. 

He would never catch up to her now, not if he 
ran till doomsday; and she shut her ears to the 
parental cry to tarry, and tore up the avenue until 
everything, like herself, seemed to be on the wing, 
and running for dear life. The trees rushed by her 
with a velocity as pronounced as if some one had 
broken them off from their roots and set them 
spinning gaily through space for all time to come. 
The. flower beds were galloping hotly after the trees. 
The tall, white lily buds, asleep in the twilight a 
minute ago, were now wide-awake, and tremulous, 
nodding tops proclaimed their perturbation of spirit, 
lest they should come to harm in this distracted 
race. And two little fat, white bodies of statues 
gleamed out of the darkness, — Cupids, hugging 
their bows and quivers. An instant, and they had 


238 


HER SAILOR. 


vanished, followed by Juno, stately Juno, her scep- 
tre tucked under her arm, her long garments float- 
ing out behind her as she swept by in a neck and 
neck race with the short-skirted goddess of hunting. 

The gates at last — and Nina thoughtfully flung 
them open for her pursuer. He would never 
catch her now, never, never. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


‘‘MUCH HAVE I BORNE SINCE DAWN OF MORN.” 

To sit in a tender with her feet on a bag of coal 
had never up to this been Nina’s idea of paradise. 
But now she changed her mind in the speediest 
manner possible. 

She was in a small puffing craft of sable black- 
ness ; her light gown was in damaging proximity 
to the lumps of coal, yet she was blissfully happy. 
For she was gliding swiftly and surely over the 
broad, black bosom of the river toward the bright 
white light hung up in the masts of the Merrimac. 

A few minutes, and she was in the shadow of the 
huge bulk. Then her hands and feet nimbly laid 
hold on the wooden steps, and some one was helping 
her to clamber to the deck. 

She looked up and saw the quartermaster. She 
gave him a gay “ Good evening,” that he was 
too startled to return ; then, mentioning her name, 
she requested him to pay and dismiss the men on 
the tender. 

239 


240 


HER SAILOR. 


She sauntered along the deck to the chart-room. 
Opening the door, she found it empty. ‘‘Ah! I 
thought he would be here,” she murmured ; “ but 
no matter — he must be somewhere. It is late, per- 
haps he is having supper.” 

There was a book on navigation lying open on 
the table, and she turned over a few pages. What 
queer language — how clever he must be to under- 
stand it I “ Man the spanker brails and weather 
vang and sheet ; hands by the outhaul, brace in the 
cross-jack yards, ease away the outhaul. Brail up, 
hauling in the lee brails best, so as to spill the sail 
as quickly as possible, then haul up the weather 
brails, pass the foot gaskets, steady the gaff, crutch 
the boom, and stow the sail.” 

She smiled wearily, closed the book, and de- 
scended to the deck. What a glorious night it 
was ! There was no moon, but there were stars, 
legions of them, flashing down on the lesser lights 
of earth. It was getting late, yet there was still 
a murmur of traffic in the two great towns stretched 
out on either side of them, although out here on the 
river it was very quiet. 

A puff of smoke in her face drew her attention 
to the tender. It was just putting off, and she 
watched it for a few minutes. Swiftly, unerringly. 


MUCH HAVE I borne: 


241 


the little black craft glided between the shipping, 
avoiding alike the leviathans of the deep and the 
tiniest cockle-shells afloat. Then its light was lost 
among the other myriad lights, and she turned away, 
and dived down the first opening she came to. 

How quiet the ship was ! Only a few sailors in 
the distance who stared at her as if she had been 
a ghost. She almost lost herself in a strange alley- 
way that brought her to the now silent engine-room. 
Emerging from it, she got into a passage running 
half the length of the ship, and that she knew would 
lead her to the dining-saloon. 

Just as her hand was on the door, a roar of 
laughter saluted her ears. She opened it a very 
little and peered cautiously in. 

The ship’s officers were seated at an end of one 
of the long dining-tables, having their supper and 
an uncommonly good joke, she should imagine, 
judging by their faces. Their knives and forks were 
laid down, and they were laughing, not like landsmen, 
but like sailors with strong and hearty lungs. Loud, 
explosive guffaws testified to the richness of the 
joke, and Nina wondered what it was. And ’Steban 
was as bad as the rest of them, lying back in his 
chair, his hands on his sides. She never had seen 
him laugh in that way before. 


242 


HER SAILOR. 


‘‘Poor fellow!” she breathed, “I am glad he 
knows how to enjoy himself. Far better this than 
to find him alone sighing for something he cannot 
get.” 

Then she frowned. Would those men ever stop 
laughing ? Such continued frivolity was childish 
and unbecoming in grown men. Now if they were 
boys — 

“ Come now 1 — none of that, Miss Petticoats,” 
ejaculated some one behind her. “ The captain 
don’t allow lady folks about the ship.” 

Nina turned and saw Merdyce. Merdyce, so very 
subservient in the presence of his master, so very 
important when in the presence of his equals. She 
drew her wrap closer about her and vouchsafed no 
answer. 

“Move out of that, please,” he exclaimed, with 
a flourish of his arm. “ I want to pass.” 

He was carrying a solitary bottle. Nina stood 
back, and he dashed by with a farewell injunction 
to her to take herself off. 

As he entered the saloon, Nina thrust her head 
after him. The peals of laughter had died away, 
and Captain Fordyce was his usual reserved self. 
He was never familiar for any length of time with 
his subordinates. Just now, though no one ad- 


MC/CJI HA VE I borne: 


243 


dressed him, he perceived by the faces about him 
that there was some special attraction at the door, 
and he, too, glanced in that direction. 

The intruding head had been withdrawn, so he 
turned to Merdyce. Is there any one out there } ” 

‘‘Yes, sir, a young person,” the officious youth 
explained; “she’s hanging about the ship.” 

Captain Fordyce’s brows contracted. “And she’s 
been spying at you, sir, through the door.” 

At this there was a general pricking up of ears, 
and a faint glimmer of a smile illumined all faces but 
Captain Fordyce’s. 

“ Send her away,” he said, shortly. 

Merdyce swung open the door, but Nina was an 
adept at dodging, and, by no means averse to playing 
a trick, glided by him and brought herself to a 
standstill some distance from the table. Between 
the dirty fringes dangling over her forehead, she 
contemplated herself in the mirror set in the wall 
behind her husband’s back. 

What a guy she was, — enveloped from head to 
foot in a soiled linen carriage wrap. And yet the 
garment was a costly one, for not until she had 
placed three sovereigns in the hand of the cab- 
driver who conveyed her to the dock was she allowed 
to become possessor of it. He knew — the grasp- 


244 


HER SAILOR. 


ing fellow — that she could not go out on the river 
in an evening dress. 

If she were in her usual spirits, and possessed of 
her usual propensity for seeking amusement at un- 
lawful times and from unlawful sources, she would 
be in a convulsion of delight at the scene before 
her. Her husband could not see her face, nor her 
figure ; and, thanks to the wrap, she could carry on 
an uninterrupted scrutiny of him. 

He did not know her — how delicious ! He sat 
back, joining in the universal stare (for the men 
had all stopped eating, and those who had had their 
backs toward her had twisted around on their seats), 
unutterably disgusted with the young person who 
had presumed to ‘‘ spy ” at him. 

His keen eyes could not pierce the coarse, soiled 
fabric that enwrapped her, yet she saw he had fully 
made up his mind that inside it was not a lady, but 
a creature entirely vulgar and depraved. 

He asked a leading question. ‘‘ Who are you ? ” 

She drew the fringes of the wrap across her 
mouth, and said, almost unintelligibly, A poor 
girl!" 

“ What do you want ? 

** Some money to buy bread,” she uttered, thickly, 
but with appealing sweetness. 


^^MUCH HAVE I BORNEr 245 

“ Bread ! ” and he snorted like a righteously indig- 
nant war-horse. 

‘‘I am a poor orphan,” continued Nina, “and I 
have six little brothers and four little sisters in 
bed for want of clothes. Can’t you give me 
something .? ” 

“ Be off ! ” and he contemptuously turned to his 
plate. 

“ Please come with me, good sir,” she murmured, 
in her plaintive beggar’s whine, and she stretched out 
a pleading hand. 

At the same time there was apparent in her 
manner, even under the linen shroudings, a sauci- 
ness and assurance that claimed further attention 
from the master of ceremonies. 

, He threw up his head at this imp-like creature 
who was teasing him, and gave a backward nod 
toward the watchful Merdyce. There was a visible 
tendency on the part of his officers to laugh. It 
was time the place was cleared. 

Merdyce thought that his hand was just about to 
alight on the stranger’s shoulder ; but he was mis- 
taken, for she had slipped aside, and was shaking 
a jingling wrist toward his master. There was 
nothing on it but a bangle, a brass one, probably ; 
but it was evidently some token, for the man at the 


246 


HER SAILOR. 


table recognised it at once, and, without a glance 
at the ridiculously bewildered faces of his fellows, 
sprang to his feet, and, throwing an arm around her, 
swept her from the room. 

Merdyce stood with his mouth open, and as the 
door swung together Nina heard the first murmur 
of a sound that she knew would develop into an 
immoderate burst of laughter, rivalling, if not eclips- 
ing their former effort in that line. 

Don’t mind them, darling, they have not an idea 
who you are,” whispered her husband, joyously, in 
her ear. 

Then he opened the door of one of the small 
rooms along the passage. This had been Miss 
Marsden’s apartment. The last time Nina was in 
it picturesque confusion reigned triumphant from 
ceiling to floor. Dresses, shoes, rugs, books, bot- 
tles, hats, and cloaks lay cheek by jowl ; and Miss 
Marsden herself, large-eyed and cheerful, reclined in 
the midst. Now they could see the pattern of the 
carpet. The whole room was as neat as wax, and 
the berth wherein Miss Marsden was wont to lounge 
was made up as neatly as if never again intended 
for the use of mortal man or woman. 

The curtains of the berth were drawn up from the 
floor, and folded neatly over the white pillow. It 


^^MUCH HAVE I borne: 


247 


looks as if some one had died here,” she said, with 
a nervous shudder ; “ come away, ’Steben, we can 
talk in some other place.” 

You look done out,” he said, in an explanatory 
way. “ I thought you would like to get into the first 
place available.” 

“ No,” she said, clinging to his hand, and drawing 
him down the passage and toward the companionway. 
‘‘ I feel better now. In such close proximity to your 
fists, I could look the whole world in the face, — I am 
afraid of nobody, no, not I.” 

He did not speak, but his face was flushed and 
full of a curious expectancy, and he was gnawing his 
moustache in an occasional restless fashion that he 
had. 

Nina exhibited not the slightest desire to gratify 
his curiosity. They were on deck now, and she 
stopped before a door bearing the inscription, 
‘‘Captain’s Room,” on a brass plate. 

“ May I go in .? ” she asked. 

“ Certainly,” and he followed her. 

It was the most cheerful apartment on the ship. 
The walls were panelled with some dark, shining 
wood ; the furniture, though all of the heavy order, 
was handsome and elaborate. There were books and 
papers, but only one picture. It hung in a recess 


248 


HER SAILOR. 


over the bed, and Nina went up and examined it. 
She knew that her husband possessed a picture 
taken of her in her childish days, but was far from 
guessing that it hung here. 

You always let this room to the highest bidder, 
don’t you?” she asked, as she seated herself in a 
large American rocking-chair. 

‘‘Not exactly,” he replied, “but I usually give 
it up.” 

“ And the money you get from it falls to you ? ” 

“Yes, — perquisites,” he said, lightly. 

“For me,” she went on, twisting around the gold 
bangle on her wrist, “you go about the ocean 
sleeping on a shelf — ” 

“ Or in a hammock,” he interrupted, with a smile. 

“In order that I may be clothed in fine rai- 
ment.” 

“ I don’t know about the fineness of it,” he said, 
critically surveying the coarse wrap still hanging 
about her shoulders. 

She threw it far from her; then, pointing to the 
photograph behind her, said : “ Do you always leave 
it there?” 

“ No ; when a stranger takes possession I move 
it.” 

“ So you remember me when I was like that ? ” 


MUCH HAVE I borne: 


249 


she said, getting up, and gazing again at the round- 
cheeked, diminutive baby head staring at her from 
the wall. 

Yes.” 

An ugly child, that,” she said, *^two great eyes 
sunk in fat cheeks.” 

‘‘Yes, you were not very handsome — ” 

She turned, and eyed him severely. 

“ Then,” he added, with deliberation and empha- 
sis. At the same time he invaded the rocking-chair, 
where she had again seated herself. “Nina, you 
have come to stay } ” 

“ No, indeed,” she said, giving him her hand in a 
tired fashion ; “ this is but a call. I wanted to put 
in the time this evening, and to tell you that I don’t 
wish to go back to the Forrests. They have dis- 
agreeable neighbours. You must either send me to 
a hotel or let me go to London.” 

He smiled peculiarly and calmly, and took pos- 
session of both her hands with the emphatic words : 
“ I want to hear from my wife what has happened to 
send her to me in such haste that she had not time 
to dress herself suitably for the street.” 

“ I got a most horrible fright,” she said, wriggling 
her head uneasily from his shoulder, where he was 
trying to persuade it to lie, and where she did not 


250 HER SAILOR. 

wish it to remain. A madman came and told me 
he was my father.” 

‘‘ A madman ! ” he repeated, in a puzzled, almost 
startled tone. 

“ Yes,” and she related the manner of her escape : 

I got a cab on the Prince’s Road and it took me 
all the way to the landing-stage. Then I got a 
tender, — I couldn’t help spending so much money. 
I was so frightened and I wanted to get to you,” she 
said, winding up with a sob. 

It recalled him to himself. A kiss that, under the 
circumstance, she thought it best to endure was im- 
printed on her forehead. “You did perfectly right, 
my impulsive darling. It is Lady Forrest who is to 
blame. I requested her never to leave you alone.” 

“ Why shouldn’t she leave me alone ? ” said Nina, 
sharply. 

He did not reply ; and, motioning him to a chair, 
she perched herself on his knee, — an honour that he 
accepted with uneasy delight, when he found it ac- 
companied by the taking of his head between her 
two hands, and the inexorable scrutiny of his face 
by two brilliant eyes. 

“’Steban,” she said, sweetly and sadly, “in some 
respects you are not a very nice man.” 

He felt relieved, but she went on : “I mean to 


MC/CJI HAVE / borne: 


251 


say that you are not easy to get on with on account 
of your dreadful temper, but ” — and here she 
brought his face as close to hers as their two noses 
would allow — with all your faults I know that you 
would not tell me a lie on a serious subject.” 

He began to feel uneasy again, and his uneasiness 
increased when she broke down and hid her face on 
his shoulder. “ Oh, ’Steban, — I say that man was 
mad, but he was not mad. He is my father really, 
truly, isn’t he ? Tell me.” 

There was a long silence. Captain Fordyce gently 
stroked the back of her head, but made no effort to 
utter a word. 

“ Is he my father ? ” asked Nina, suddenly lifting 
her face. 

He did not reply. 

Will you tell me .? ” and her voice was almost 
fierce. 

“ How can I tell ? ” he muttered at last. ** I did 
not see him.” 

She pushed him away from her, and sprang to her 
feet. “ Is my father a good man > ” 

<< A good man,” he repeated, restlessly. What is 
a good man ? ” 

You know what I mean,” she said, harshly. 

Is he like you ? ” 


252 


HER SAILOR. 


“He is certainly not like me,” he replied, with a 
grim and feeble attempt at pleasantry. 

She repulsed his sympathetic hand, and flung her- 
self across the room. 

Nina,” he called after her, in a voice vibrating 
with compassion, “ come back.” 

She turned a deaf ear to him, and kneeling on a 
seat by the window stared out into the night. She 
saw nothing. The outside world was as black and 
confused as her own thoughts. She remained mute, 
unthinking almost, until a slight and reminiscent 
sound stirred even her sluggish mind. 

She remembered the soft and not unpleasing tones 
of that voice, and she turned around. The door had 
opened softly and closed again ; and, standing with 
his back against it, was the man with the quiet, 
sneering face. He was smiling stealthily at her 
husband, — her husband who had forgotten her, and 
who stood with a white, still anger on his brow, 
a contemptuous hatred in his eyes. These two men 
were enemies. Nina saw it in the careless malice 
of the one, and the smothered anger of the other ; 
and, crawling painfully across the room, she stood 
between them. 

The newcomer straightened himself and looked 
over her shoulder. “ You are outwitted, Fordyce, 


^^MUCH HAVE I borne:* 253 

Otherwise you never would have afforded me the 
sight of my daughter. Thank Heaven I had the 
thought of sending you the false report of my 
death.” 

“ I have never believed a word that came out 
of your lying mouth,” said Captain Fordyce, disdain- 
fully. ‘‘Come, now, what do you want You must 
take yourself away from here.” 

“ What do I want } ” inquired the stranger. “ I 
want my daughter, of course. I hear you ill-use her 
and have the cold shoulder turned toward you. I 
suppose she ran back to you because women are 
fools enough to like those who ill-treat them. I hope 
she will come to London with her loving father,” and 
with a flattering change of manner he appealed to 
Nina. 

She dropped her eyes to her wedding ring and 
slowly turned it round and round on her finger. 
She was not angry with this man any more. He 
was certainly her father : and dear Mr. Israel Dan- 
vers was fading, fading into obscurity. And her 
husband hated her father. There could be no 
mutual agreement, no settlement of difficulties be- 
tween them. Neither could there be any question 
of her duty. 

“Go on, plead your case,” said Captain Fordyce, 


254 


HER SAILOR. 


addressing his caller in a voice of concentrated pas- 
sion, “and make haste to get out of this.” 

The man by the door smiled in an evil way, and 
again addressed his daughter. “Will you go with 
me, Bertha.?” 

She did not recoil at the strange name, but, lifting 
her eyes, fixed him with a firm and steady gaze. 

“Go with him,” said Captain Fordyce, in an iron- 
ical voice. “Go with the honourable, kind-hearted 
gentleman.” 

There was an ominous silence in the room. 
Everything seemed hushed and breathless, waiting 
for the girl’s answer. 

“ I cannot go with you,” she said, clearly ; “ be- 
cause I am married to this man.” 

“ Marriage,” said her parent, derisively, “ what is 
it ? — a few jabbered words — and you will never be 
happy with that bully. You had better take the 
night express for London with me.” 

The girl’s face suddenly became cold, hard, and 
unsympathetic. Then it softened, and gave traces 
of an inward and severe mental struggle ; and she 
spoke swiftly and surely. “ You are my father, cer- 
tainly, but it is better to speak the truth. I have 
never known you. If I was taken from you by that 
man,” and she hurriedly indicated her husband, “he 


MUCJI HA VE I BORNE,' 


255 


had some good reason for it. I see that our aims 
and motives in life are different. I do not think we 
could help each other. I am sorry, deeply sorry, but 
I think you had better go away. I — ” She stamped 
her foot in abrupt anger with herself, but she had 
lost self-control. The usual flood-gates of passion 
were open, and wildly and excitedly exclaiming, “ Oh, 
please go away, — please go away ! ” she threw her- 
self into the big rocking-chair and hid her face 
against its back. 

Captain Fordyce opened the door, and spoke in a 
low voice to the man as he passed him : “Years ago 
you abused and tortured the gentle creature who had 
been kind to me. Do you think I would be such a 
fool — such a base, senseless fool — as to allow a 
second victim to fall into your hands } ” 

The quiet man looked ugly, shrugged his shoul- 
ders, and pretended to suppress a yawn. Then he 
gazed coldly into the livid face confronting him. 

“ Have you got a sovereign about you ? I was in 
such haste to pursue my fleeing daughter that I 
left my purse behind me.” 

“ Here are five pounds for you,” said the other, 
scornfully, “ now get out.” 

“I suppose that old warrant for child-stealing 
might possibly give you some trouble with your 


256 


HER SAILOR. 


employers if I were to bring it up,” continued the 
stranger, insinuatingly. 

“Not a particle. Here’s your boat. Quarter- 
master, give this man a hand over the side ; and tell 
a boy to be ready in five minutes to go ashore 
with a note to Prince’s Road.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


DISTRESS AND SWEET SUBMISSION. 

‘‘ My father is not a good man, my father is not 
a good man ! ” 

Captain Fordyce stood biting his lip. He was look- 
ing down on the sofa in the darkened room where 
Nina had been lying for a day and a night. At last 
he said, roughly, “ I gave you credit for more spirit, 
Nina.’^ 

She stopped talking to herself, and rolled her head 
over on the cushion in his direction. 

It is silly,” he went on, with assumed sternness. 
“ He has forgotten all about you by this time.” 

She set her small mouth obstinately. “ I cannot 
help that. It just drives me wild. Oh, ’Steban, 
'Steban, why did you let me see him? Why didn’t 
I stay in America ? ” and she again hid her white, 
distressed face. 

Captain Fordyce frowned, appeared puzzled, then, 
coming to a swift conclusion, began rapidly turning 
out the contents of a chest of drawers on the floor. 
257 


258 


HER SAILOR. 


The unusual noise disturbed his nervous and suf- 
fering wife, and she once more fixed her attention 
on him. ‘‘’Steban dear, please don’t make such a 
noise.” 

It won’t last long,” he said, firmly. “ I am going 
to Paris.” 

‘‘ To Paris ! ” and she straightened herself on her 
cushions. 

“Yes, — have to run over on business, — sorry to 
leave you, Nina.” 

“To leave me, — but I can’t be left. Why, ’Steban, 
I feel as if I were going to die,” and her lip trembled. 
“I can’t eat, and I can’t sleep, and — ” 

“ Telegraph me if anything happens, — if that man 
should bother you again, or — ” 

“ ’Steban ! ” and she sprang to her feet. “ I can’t 
be left, — I shall go, too ! ” 

He concealed his extravagant joy, and bent low 
over a box of cuffs and collars. 

Nina dragged herself across the room to him. 
“’Steban,” she said, weakly, “have I been very 
trying this last day.?” 

“Very,” he growled. 

“ I will be good now,” she murmured, “ and 
’Steban — ” 

“Yes,” he said, encouragingly. 


DISTRESS AND SWEET SUBMISSION 259 

She was standing over him now, erect, pale, 
womanly, her fingers just touching his shoulder. 

My copy-books used to tell me that adversity is 
the trial of principle ; and for the one thing that 
remains to me unchanged through this unhappy 
affair — for you — I am deeply thankful. To know 
that, though alone, I am not alone ; that since child- 
hood you have watched over me with the jealous eye 
of affection ; and that now I belong to you, is the 
only comfort I have.” And seizing his hand, the 
strong, brown hand that had toiled so many years 
for her, she pressed it against her lips. 

He was silent for a short time, then he remarked, 
in a muffled voice, “ Will you really go to Paris with 
me.?” 

‘‘ Yes, ’Steban,” she said, sweetly. 

He pushed the clothes aside brusquely, and, 
stalking across the room, gazed silently out the 
window. After a long time he looked over his 
shoulder. ‘‘And after we come back — what do 
you wish to do .? ” 

‘‘That I leave to you,” she responded, with an 
entirely new and bewitching humility. 

A swift beatific smile hovered about his lips ; and, 
looking as if he could scarcely believe his senses, he 
approached her, but swung on his heel when he saw 


26 o 


HER SAILOR. 


the shy and startled expression that passed like a 
shadow over her face. 

‘‘’Steban,” she said, nervously, ‘‘I ran’t get those 
people out of my head. I mean the Danvers. They 
are my real parents. I love them more and more. 
It is not wrong ? ” 

Wrong, no, — like them as much as you wish.” 

‘‘I cannot love that man,” she said, shudderingly. 
*^He is my father, — I ought to, yet I cannot.” 

You need not like him. He is not worthy of it. 
I have had a longer acquaintance with him than 
you have. He never was anything much, and he 
is deteriorating all the time.” 

** What does he do for a living } ” asked Nina, 
wistfully. “ I thought he looked poor.” 

‘‘He deserves to be poor.” 

“ What is his business } ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“You don’t want to know. I am afraid he is 
a friend of Mr. Delessert’s,” she murmured, in a 
distressed way. 

“ I dare say.” 

“ Probably my — my father told him all about me, 
and, knowing he travelled by sea a good deal, asked 
him to find out what he could about me when he 
came in contact with you.” 


DISTRESS AND SWEET SUBMISSION. 26 1 
Probably.” 

’Steban,” said Nina, with an unexpected transi- 
tion from mournful curiosity to appealing tenderness, 
“ respect is the first step to love, isn’t it ? ” 

“Yes, birdie.” 

“ And I respect you.” 

“ I hope so.” 

“But you won’t tell me things, and I am just 
dying with curiosity, — righteous curiosity. And I 
am going on a nice, nice journey with you, and I 
won’t cry any more, and will do everything you want 
me to, and won’t you tell me everything about 
myself.?” 

He smiled amiably and fatuously, and occupied 
himself by gently caressing his moustache. 

“Once I was very obdurate,” she went on. “I 
said : ‘ He is altogether too reserved ; I shall never, 
never like him till he tells me everything he knows.’ 
Now don’t you think the time has come .? ” 

She stood with her head on one side like a demure 
and fascinating robin, and her husband helplessly 
surveyed the door. If he could escape while there 
was yet time, this coaxing humour would pass 
away. But she would be too clever for him. He 
saw himself, simpleton, weak-minded idiot, and 
various other despised names in his vocabulary. 


262 


HER SAILOR. 


wheedled into a seat, the inquisitive robin perched 
close beside him, reluctant secrets falling from his 
lips. 

Nina was intently watching him, and her demure 
smile was turning to a proud one. ‘‘ Go,” she said, 
pointing to the door, I have changed my mind. I 
do not wish to know your secrets.” 

He hesitated, and stared helplessly at her. 

‘‘Or,” she said, “I will make my demand for 
them from a change of basis. I am going to be a 
good wife to you — just as good as I know how. 
You have borne a great many burdens alone. I ask 
for my share of them.” 

“ Nina ! ” he said, rapturously. 

“I may not come up to your expectations,” she 
said, wistfully; “but I will try.” 

He suppressed his exultation, and sat down 
soberly beside her. “ I beg your pardon, darling ; I 
have the fullest confidence in you. I will tell you 
anything you choose to ask.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


IN PLEASANT SUMMER WEATHER. 

‘‘ Who could think of storms and shipwrecks in 
an atmosphere like this ? ” 

The sun was setting in a gorgeous bank of cloud 
that presaged weather fine and settled for days to 
come. Its last rays glowed on a vast expanse of 
ocean, calm and brilliantly blue. Sky and sea were 
alike at peace and beautiful. 

‘‘Yes, storms and shipwrecks seem idle dreams,*’ 
murmured Nina, again. 

There was only one restless thing in the whole 
extent of the wide horizon, — the huge steamer 
cutting her way swiftly through the deep blue 
waves, and seeming in the silence that brooded over 
the waste of waters to be a living, sentient thing. 
In the quiet of this exquisite summer evening, her 
movements appeared unseemly. Ah, no, they were 
not! She had a reason. Every throb of her iron 
heart seemed to say, “ Make haste, make haste, a 
day will come when the tiny, guileless waves lapping 
263 


264 


HER SAILOR. 


your sides will be transformed into raging, furious 
fiends, dashing themselves against your iron plates 
as if to wrest your living victims from you.” 

Nina shuddered, and, extending her body seawards, 
looked down at the track of frothy white foam trail- 
ing out behind her; and at this moment when her 
thoughts were far away, when her eyes were trying 
to pierce the depths of the beautiful fickle element 
below, some one came softly behind her, and uttered 
the prosaic words, “ Dinner is served, ma’am.” 

‘‘Thank you, I don’t care for any,” she observed, 
with a start ; and the too attentive Merdyce crept 
disappointedly away. 

Nina tried to resume her interrupted soliloquy, 
but the charm was broken. She cast a regretful 
glance at the sparkling sea, the rosy sky; then, 
turning, looked down a near skylight into the din- 
ing-saloon. Everybody was at dinner. The stew- 
ards, like kindly birds of prey, hovered over the 
long tables, then departing, wheeled and circled 
about the corners of the room, in their efforts to 
obtain fresh supplies of food for their hungry 
charges. 

The Merrimac was carrying several hundred people 
out to the high seas ; many nationalities, many grades 
of society, were represented; and Captain Fordyce 


IN PLEASANT SUMMER WEATHER. 265 

sat with keen, observant eyes bent on this last 
assemblage of precious souls committed to his care. 
He seemed lonely, and even though she wished no 
dinner, Nina reflected that she might go and bear 
him company. 

What are you grumbling to yourself ? ” she 
asked, jauntily, as she terminated a walk down the 
crowded room by slipping into a seat beside him. 

He pushed away his soup plate without replying. 

‘‘Tell me, I wish to know,” she said, command- 
ingly. 

“ It was a thought, and thoughts are sacred 
things.” 

“A man should have no secrets from his wife,” 
she murmured, with a severity that she knew would 
be pleasing to him. 

Thus admonished, he said, softly : “ The sweetly 
uncertain manners of girlhood, and yet the self- 
possession of a duchess.” 

“Just praise is only a debt, but flattery is a 
present,” we read in the Rambler; and the gift laid 
before the girl came from one who gave to few, and 
that not often. In secret delight she dropped her 
eyes beneath the eloquent glance that went even 
further than the words, and murmured something 
about a paradox. 


266 


HER SAILOR. 


He smiled, then said, in a low voice, “ Do you 
know what this is ? ” 

This ? ” she said, nodding toward a salt-cellar 
upon which he had concentrated his attention. 
“Yes, certainly. I was taught at school, — a small 
vessel for holding the chloride of sodium, a substance 
used as — 

“Nina,” he said, fondly and under his breath, 
“don’t be provoking. You know what I mean. 
Your coming in here and sitting down beside me is 
a proclamation of the fact that you are my wife, my 
bride. See how those people are staring. They 
are probably saying : ‘ Has that charming young 

creature fallen a prey to that sea-wolf.^’” 

Regardless of the curious glances, she frowned 
menacingly at him. Then, unheeding his request 
that she would stay and sensibly take her dinner 
with him, she got up and stole out of the room, not 
in the appro ved-of duchess fashion, but with the air 
of “a conscious simpleton, a bashful sneaksby.” 

In the ladies’ cabin on deck she found a pretty, 
golden-haired child, to whom she made friendly 
advances, and with whom she played until a French 
maid appeared to carry it, reluctant and tearful, 
away to bed. 

Then the people came up from dinner, and before 


IN PLEASANT SUMMER WEATHER. 267 

Nina could escape she was pounced upon by an 
elderly maiden. The celerity with which travellers 
by sea become acquainted with each other is only 
equalled by the celerity with which they forget each 
other ; and in an incredibly short space of time Nina 
had listened to a long and detailed account of a list of 
ills that a sea-voyage was supposed to cure. Sheer ex- 
haustion at last forced her to stop, and Nina was free. 

She found a quiet corner outside, and curling her- 
self up in a deck-chair sat staring at the sky, and 
listening dreamily to the confused variety of sounds 
about her. 

After the lapse of an hour the pangs of hunger 
assailed her. She sprang up, and in two minutes 
found herself in front of the steward’s pantry. The 
lord high steward himself, a very grand personage, 
seeing who it was, condescended to wait on her. 

‘‘ I want a chicken,” she said, mildly. Then, by 
way of explanation, “I had no dinner, — and you 
may give me something to drink. What is in 
those bottles } ” and she pointed to the wall where 
tiers on tiers of shelves rose above each other. 

“Ale and porter, ma’am. We’ve got thousands 
of bottles, and they’ll all be gone before we get 
home. That’s saying nothing of the wines that’ll 
be drunk. Will you have one } ” 


268 


HER SAILOR. 


“No, thank you.” 

“ The captain never touches a drop of these 
things, that is at sea,” said the man, with a com- 
prehensive wave of his hand behind him. “From 
port to port he’s a strict T. T. That’s out of re- 
gard to the feelings of some of his passengers, — 
temperance folk.” 

“Will you please give me that chicken.?” said 
Nina. 

“ Shall I send it for you, ma’am .? ” 

“No, I am going to carry it somewhere.” 

He turned, spoke to a satellite, then handed her 
through the window a bird of moderate size on a 
very large plate. 

“Do you think you can manage it.?” he asked, 
anxious, and slightly surprised. 

“ Manage a chicken,” she murmured ; “ well, I 
should rather think so. Oh ! please give me a nap- 
kin ; ” and putting the plate on the floor, she turned 
back. 

He handed her one that she unfolded and care- 
fully spread over the outstretched legs and wings 
of the defunct fowl. Then she began her progress 
down the passage. 

The steward craned his neck out the window. 
“ An odd little card ! I wonder where she’s going.” 


IN PLEASANT SUMMER WEATHER. 269 

All went well with her until she approached a 
stairway that wound aggravatingly upward. There 
the chicken begin to show signs of animation, wob- 
bling about on the plate, and wildly kicking the nap- 
kin as if to dislodge it. Nina laughed ; then, with 
eyes glued on her burden, tried to walk back steadily. 

Some one came leaping down the stairs, and in 
her anxiety to avoid a collision she stepped aside too 
quickly. Oh, my chicken ! ” she cried, sorrowfully 
staring at the empty plate in her hand. 

Alive or dead } ” asked a laughing voice. 

Nina looked up, and saw standing above her a 
sprightly, laughing boy. 

“ Alive,” she said ; it has taken to itself wings and 
flown away. It was in mortal terror of serving for 
my supper.” 

‘‘It went down that alley-way, didn’t it.?” he 
asked. 

“ Yes, please ask that steward to go after it. And 
now I must go for another.” 

“ May I have the pleasure of carrying that plate for 
you .? ” asked her new friend, with sedate politeness. 

She put it in his outstretched hand, and together 
they wended their way toward the pantry. 

“ Another chicken, please,” said Nina to the stew- 
ard, who was still looking out. With a mystified 


2/0 


HER SAILOR. 


air, he produced another, and Nina added, hastily, 
‘‘And some crackers and a bottle of lemonade. I 
forgot them before.” 

These latter things she took possession of herself, 
then turned away, her handsome, obsequious com- 
panion trotting after her. 

“Not accustomed to such rapid exercise,” she 
heard murmured as she reached the outer air. He 
was leaning with languid grace against a cabin door, 
and she paused and observed contritely that she did 
not know how fast she was going. 

“ Oh, I don’t really care,” he said, with charming 
impudence. “ I just wanted you to stop and speak 
to me. What a jolly night it is ! ” 

She looked sharply at him. Yet his fresh, young 
face really was alight with wonder and admiration as 
he gazed up at the blue vault above them. 

“ Have you ever studied astronomy } ” he asked. 

“Yes,” she returned, guardedly, “I have a smat- 
tering of it.” 

“Stars ought to be the best astronomers,” he 
went on, “ for they have studded the heavens since 
the world began.” Then walking across the deck, 
he stuck his knees in the bulwark, and, steadying 
the plate on the top of the rail, said : “ Do you know 
the name of that constellation near the pole-star } ” 


IN PLEASANT SUMMER WEATHER. 2/1 

“ No,” she replied, regretfully, ‘‘ I don’t.” 

*‘It is Cassiopeia’s chair,” he said, gravely. 
wonder whether she found it comfortable. She was 
sphered at her death, you know. Neptune sent a 
great sea-serpent to ravage the kingdom of her hus- 
band, a king of Ethiopia, because she, naughty Cas- 
siopeia, had had the presumption to declare herself 
fairer than the sea-nymphs. Astonishing, isn’t it, 
how vain women are ? ” 

‘‘ I know what those two stars are,” said Nina, 
drawing her lemonade bottle from under her arm, 
and pointing it skywards, ** Castor and Pollux, twin 
brothers, who, unlike any specimens of perfect youth 
we have nowadays, were so much attached to each 
other that Jupiter set them among the stars.” 

** H’m, yes,” the boy replied. “ I didn’t know 
that before. And so they are twins. They are 
certainly very much alike.” 

Nina laughed, looked again at the luminous bod- 
ies that point by point resembled each other, until 
she heard a quick, malignant and ill-boding 
stars !” 

His voice was deeply tragic now. Star-gazing had 
made him forget the chicken committed to his care ; 
the plate had tipped; the fowl, hesitating not an 
instant, had taken a swift glide down the inclined 


2/2 


HER SAILOR. 


plane into the ocean. For the second time Nina had 
lost her supper. 

“ What bad taste ! ” exclaimed the boy, gloomily. 
**You have such pretty teeth, and a shark — oh, hor- 
rors ! ” Then, rapidly, and in the same breath, he 
asked, “ Why have fowls no future state ? ” 

He waited an instant only for her answer, then 
rattled off : “ Because they have their next world in 
this world, — necks twirled in this world. Compre^ 
nez-voiis ? Now may I get you another } ” 

‘‘Another what, — a conundrum or a chicken.^” 

“ The latter,” he answered, soberly. 

“What, — three chickens in one evening .J*” said 
Nina. “No, thank you. Think of the reputation 
for greediness you would put upon me. I shall con- 
tent myself with the crackers and lemonade now, and 
that reminds me — I must go and eat them.” 

“ Where V he asked, eagerly. 

“ In the chart-room.” 

“ That belongs to the captain, and are you travel- 
ling under his wing, too. Miss — Miss — I don’t 
know your name,” he added, suggestively. 

“ Miss Truecumtrotty,” said Nina, demurely. 

“ What a beautiful name ! I suppose you are a 
schoolgirl whom he is taking home,” he said, with 
such waggish politeness, such inimitable drollery of 


IN PLEASANT SUMMER WEATHER. 2/3 


tone and manner, that Nina was sorely tempted to 
forget her newly acquired dignity, to return to the 
days of her youth, and have a game of romps with 
this queer, delightful boy. 

“He’s supposed to keep an eye on me, too,” he 
went on, with a shiver ; “ and by no means happy is 
this miserable little dolphin who sails in the huge, 
great shadow of a British whale ; and I’m off for my 
Siealth, too. I’m quite ill, though I don’t look it,” 
and his liquid eyes were raised wickedly and confid- 
ingly to her face. 

“And won’t you say something against Captain 
Fordyce?” he went on, after a short pause; “do, 
just to comfort me. We’re in the same boat, you 
know. You are young and charming. So am I. If 
he keeps one down, he will the other. He told me 
to-day that I was not to go up on the bridge. Such 
impertinence ! I’ll knock him down if he speaks 
that way to me again, — the old griffin ! ” 

The boy was going too far. Nina gave him one 
sweeping, withering glance, vouchsafed him a rebuk- 
ing, “Captain Fordyce is my husband. He could 
shake you all to pieces with one finger, you saucy 
little boy ! ” then she abruptly left him. 

She would never speak to him again ; and she 
must not put her foot on the bridge ladder till 


2/4 SAILOR. 

she became somewhat cooler. Her husband would 
want to know what had irritated her ; so she paced 
slowly along the deck, stopping before every cabin 
door, and peering down every skylight she came to. 
The steady, subdued roar of the machinery pos- 
sessed a curious charm for her. She would like to 
have explained to her the workings of those won- 
derful engines that day by day kept urging them 
onward. 

‘‘ ’Steban,” she said, precipitating herself into his 
presence, “I want to penetrate the innermost re- 
cesses of the ship to-morrow. You will take me, 
will you not } ” 

He sat stock-still. He was working out some 
problem, and not even for her would he interrupt 
it. She had to wait fully five minutes before he 
finished. Then he jumped up, and offered her the 
chair he had been sitting in. 

‘<No, thank you,” she said, seizing the leg of a 
stool under the table, and dragging it out. “ I want 
this. I am going to stay a little while, — that is, if 
you are not busy.” 

No, I am not busy,” he replied, quietly and con- 
tentedly, I have just finished. What have you got 
in your arms } ” 

''Something to eat,” she said, briskly. "I am 


m PLEASANT SUMMER WEATHER. 275 

Starving, and I want the cork taken out of this 
bottle, please.” 

While she was watching him do it, there was a 
knock at the door. As she was nearest, she opened 
it. Her schoolboy friend stood before her, his cap in 
one hand, a small dish in the other. 

“ I have brought you some cold beef, Mrs. For- 
dyce,” he said, without raising his eyes, and with 
such affecting humility of manner that Nina bit her 
lip to keep from laughing. “There was nothing 
else,” he added, sadly; “the stewards say there has 
been an unusual run on the fowls this evening.” 

Nina threw resentment to the winds, and gave him 
her sweetest smile of acknowledgment. “ It was 
kind in you, very kind to trouble yourself about 
it.” 

He raised his eyes, impudent and merry as ever, to 
her face. “ I have brought only a little seasoning,” 
he said, meaningly, “ only a scant supply of anything 
hot, — pepper, mustard, and the like. In some way 
or other I fancied you wouldn’t require much ; ” and, 
running down the steps, he disappeared. 

“Who was that?” asked her husband, as she 
returned to her seat. 

“ A naughty, naughty boy, but very nice. I don’t 
know his name,’' 


276 


HER SAILOR. 


‘‘What is his age?” asked Captain Fordyce, 
jealously. 

“Fifteen, I should say. He pretends to know 
you.” 

“ Oh, young Dacy, — he is only a child,” and he 
looked relieved. 

“I met him when I was coming here with a 
chicken. I had a whole one in case you would 
like a piece. He came tumbling down-stairs and 
almost made me fall. Then we got talking.” 

Her companion forgot to reply, in the absorbing 
attention he was giving her. 

“Don’t sit there staring at me like — like a 
Dutch dog ! ” exclaimed Nina, throwing an infini- 
tesimal bit of cracker at him. “It always makes 
me think you are trying to mesmerise me. Do 
something.” 

He submissively took up a book. 

“ How stupid men are ! ” she ejaculated. “ Don’t 
you see I am just in the humour for a talk ? Put that 
book down this instant.” 

He dropped it with a smile. 

“You may smoke,” she observed, graciously; “I 
know you are dying for the permission.” 

He reached behind him, and, taking down a pipe, 
carefully filled and lighted it. 


IN PLEASANT SUMMER WEATHER. 


“ Nasty, detestable habit,” she said, with a cough ; 
“ do you know it is killing you by inches ? ” 

He looked not a whit disturbed, and, after a care- 
ful review of his features, she said, jealously : “ Other 
men have smoking-caps. You ought to have one. I 
wonder what would be most becoming to you : dark 
blue velvet, embroidered with red, or dark green, with 
yellow. I think the blue. What are you smiling at ^ ” 
He took his pipe out of his mouth long enough to 
say, “To see you practical again. You have had 
your head in the clouds all day.” 

“ It was a dream,” she said, “ that set me off. I 
thought I was at home. Then it was so strange to 
wake up and find myself not in a large, cheerful 
apartment, but ‘ cabined, cribbed, confined.’ The 
room, though the best on the ship, is still small 
enough and dark, too, for we were near the dock, 
weren’t we, and there were things against the win- 
dows. Then wandering about and seeing the prep- 
arations made for our departure was stranger still. 
’Steban, what a tremendous mail came on board. I 
counted the bags. It was so queer to see the men 
carrying them on their shoulders, and dropping them 
down that hole under the floor in the dining-saloon. 
Then the passengers arrived, — what a motley crew ! 
— some in rags, some in velvet gowns. I pitied thq 


278 


HER SAILOR. 


Steerage people, some of them looked so ill. I gave 
my travelling rug to an old Irishwoman. I shall not 
need it, the weather is so warm.” 

“ You should not have done that,” he said, between 
his closed teeth. “ Why did you not tell me about 
your Irish acquaintance } I would have given her a 
blanket, — a thing better suited to her condition in 
life than an expensive, fur-lined rug. And what will 
you do on chilly evenings } ” 

“I will take the blanket,” she said, menacingly. 
‘‘ Are you trying to scold me } ” 

“Yes,” he said, helplessly, “I am trying, but it is 
a dead failure. Whatever I may do in the future, 
now, at least, I could not utter a harsh word to you 
to save my life.” 

“ You never did scold me much,” she said, flatter- 
ingly. “ You were only obstinate, and wouldn’t tell 
me things. You are better now, and I am sorry I 
was so thoughtless to-day.” 

She was rambling about the room now in her 
usual restless fashion. The supper had been dis- 
posed of, and she was in search of some other enter- 
tainment. Her husband suddenly threw an arm 
around her as she passed him. Then she was 
placed on his knee, his pipe was laid on the table, 
and both her hands were grasped firmly in his. 


IN PLEASANT SUMMER WEATHER. 2^9 

Nina pouted visibly, for she saw that she was 
about to be favoured with one of his now frequent 
avowals of intense, repressed affection. 

I have not had you in my arms all day,” he 
murmured, with slow, passionate kisses. You have 
taken no more notice of me than if I were a table 
or a chair. Of all disappointing, will-o’-the-wisp, 
elusive works of creation, commend me to a girl in 
her teens.” 

I have spoken to you six times, and made ten 
faces at you,” said Nina, reproachfully, and rolling 
her head from side to side on his broad breast to 
dodge an impending caress that came relentless, 
unavoidable as fate. If you dare to kiss me again, 
I shall not speak to you for a week,” she said, 
warningly, as she struggled into a more dignified 
position ; and he did not, although he muttered 
something grumblingly to the effect that she was 
a little bold, cruel thing. 

Nina retired to a corner of the room, where she 
sat for some time evidently pondering some weighty 
matter. Suddenly she burst out with a remark : 
“ ’Steban, you are getting to be more obedient now. 
Why is it .? ” 

^‘Possibly because you are better fitted to com- 
mand.” 


28 o 


HER SAILOR. 


‘‘ I am just exactly what I used to be.’^ 

Pardon, — you are changing.” 

‘‘ What do you think I am changing from ? ” 

wayward bit of girlish obstinacy, fretting at 
the idea of being bound to me, to a woman in love 
with her fetters and the person to whom they bind 
her.” 

Your conceit is perfectly overcoming. I am 
just the same as ever. I am not in love with you. 
This — this feeling that has taken possession of me 
is one of profound gratitude.” 

‘‘ Profound gratitude ! Did gratitude make you 
wretched when you were at the Forrests } ” 

That was only loneliness. I know that I have 
not fallen in love with you because — because — ” 
Because what ? ” 

** You will laugh at me.” 

‘‘No, I won’t, — honour bright.” 

“Well,” she said, hanging her head, “it is because 
I have none of that feeling of delicious shyness that 
novels tell us should overpower us in the presence 
of the beloved one.” 

Captain Fordyce, in spite of his promise, burst 
into a laugh. 

“It is a proof,” she said, in an injured tone, “a 
sure proof. I can never feel that way with you. 


IN PLEASANT SUMMER WEATHER. 


281 


I cannot tremble at your footstep and blush when I 
look at you ; therefore, I am not in love with you. 
I shall never be in love with any one.” 

There was a half-revealed anxiety in her voice, and 
her husband stopped laughing. ** Take into account 
the fact that I have been before you ever since the 
dawning of your intelligence,” he said, soberly. You 
don’t want to blush before such a familiar object. 
The love that increases by degrees is so like 
friendship that it can never be violent, some one 
says.” 

It seems to me that the bloom was taken off my 
love affair,” said the girl, in a troubled voice. ‘‘I 
wish I had not known you all my life.” 

An unhappy frown settled on her husband’s brow ; 
and he was muttering something about regret for 
having disturbed her girlish ideals, when she inter- 
rupted him. 

<*What a wretch I am to say such things! You 
have been so good to me all these years. I don’t 
believe there is another man in the world who would 
have put up with me. ’Steban, what makes me so 
capricious and unsettled } ” 

“ What made you V' he said, pointedly. You 
are not now.” 

<‘But I dare say I shall be again. You don’t 


282 


HER SAILOR. 


understand me, ’Steban. I feel as if I belonged 
to quite a different race from you. You are more 
like dogs and horses and those things. You can 
always be depended on. I know one thing will 
make you angry and another will make you happy. 
While I, — why, a thing that charms me to-day may 
disgust me to-morrow, or it may charm me again. 
I can’t tell. Oh, dear, I wish I were a man ! ” and 
she wearily subsided. 

‘‘I don’t,” said her husband, with an amused 
chuckle ; “ your variableness is your greatest charm. 
Provided a woman has one or two solid essentials of 
character at bottom, all this change on the surface 
is but fascinating. Your wider range of feelings 
and emotions makes you more interesting than men. 
For instance, — to find you always a placid, smiling 
doll would bore me to death ; but when I lay my 
fingers on the handle of my door I never know what 
I may find within. There may be a young tomboy 
climbing over the furniture ; or an elderly young 
prude sitting stiffly, with a book in hand, who will 
draw herself up and look at me through imaginary 
spectacles when I speak to her ; or there may be 
a fashionable young lady in high-heeled shoes and 
an elaborate gown, who will turn up her nose at my 
rough coat ; or there may be a motherly young per- 


In PLEASANT SUMMER WEATHER. 283 

son, who will warn me against the perils of the pipe 
and the bottle ; or there may be a demure young 
kitten, who will creep into my arms and let me fondle 
her to my heart’s content.” 

Nina was listening in profound attention. ‘^And 
which do you prefer } ” she asked, when he finished. 

** The last, I think, though all are well enough in 
their turn.” 

‘‘Well, there’s some queerness about men, too,” 
said Nina, taking up the cudgels for her sex. 

“Far queerer than women, my dear, and with 
more of a strain of the brute. However, every 
woman, be she saint or angel, has in her a scrap 
of devilry.” 

“ ’Steban ! ” she said, reproachfully. 

“ She has, birdie ; latent or patent, it’s there all the 
same ; and a man who undertakes to govern a woman 
without recognising that fact is an idiot.” 

“ Men don’t govern women. Women govern 
them.” 

“ Do they ? ” he said, amiably. 

“You speak with authority,” she said, jealously. 
“ You have always pretended that you didn’t know 
anything about any women but Mrs. Danvers and 
me.” 

“ You are a host in yourself.” 


HER SAILOR. 


284 

‘‘You have had friendships, flirtations even,” she 
said, rebukingly ; “ and I have known nothing about 
them, and you have made me tell you every single 
thing that ever happened to me. Now I am ready 
to hear your adventures. Please begin.” 


CHAPTER XX. 


THE SECRET OF HER LIFE. 

She moved to a chair close beside him, and, lean- 
ing back, closed her eyes so that he could the more 
easily make his confession. 

There was a long silence, then she opened her 
eyes with a jerk. To her disappointment, he sat 
quietly smoking. 

“You are a secretive, unkind, cruel husband,” she 
said, warmly. “ Aren’t you ever going to tell me all 
your secrets ? ” 

“ Perhaps, — when you fall in love with me,” he 
said, teasingly. “ It wouldn’t be proper now.” 

Nina, too, became animated by a spirit of mischief. 
“ Tell me about that rich widow,” she said, aggravat- 
ingly, “who had a nice place on the Hudson, and 
wanted you to go visit her with a thought of mar- 
riage in her mind.” 

“You little witch,” said the man, abruptly and 
wonderingly ; “ how did you find that out ^ ” 

285 




HER SAILOk. 


*<Ah! you are as red as fire,” said Nina, trium- 
phantly ; she asked you to marry her.” 

He suppressed an ejaculation, and stared helplessly 
at her. 

‘‘Women are cleverer than men,” breathed the 
girl. “ You thought I knew nothing about that affair. 
My dear sir, if I were interested in a man, — as I 
hope to be in you some day,”, she interpolated, mod- 
estly, — “I would find out what he was thinking 
about.” 

“You young ferret, — you have been reading 
letters.” 

“ Not a letter ; I have put together things, 
though, — a word, a look, a hint, a photograph 
with shaky writing on the back. Regular heart- 
strokes, — my dear ’Steban, I really believe you 
have been quite in demand. Seasick and grateful 
lady passengers, et ccetera ; ” and she burst into a 
peal of laughter. 

The man looked sheepish, and concentrated his 
attention on his tobacco pouch. 

“ I won’t tease you any more,” she said, subduing 
her merriment. “Tell me something else I want to 
know. You haven’t wanted to marry me all these 
years. You couldn’t have fixed a matrimonial eye 
on me when I was an imp of a baby. Come now. 


THE SECRET OF HER LIFE. 28 / 

confess the hour that your thoughts first went to me 
with the idea of appropriation.” 

He became dreamy and reminiscent. One summer 
evening six years ago, when the shades of night were 
beginning to fall thickly and heavily over Rubicon 
Meadows, he was approaching the old-fashioned 
house on foot. He could see himself now, swinging 
along the road, his object a hasty visit to assure him- 
self of the well-being of the child committed to his 
care. He had known children abused by guardians, 
and he had made up his mind that the one in his 
charge should never be for any length of time with- 
out his personal supervision. And the people with 
whom she lived should never know when he was 
coming. That was another resolution to which he 
should hold firmly. On this particular evening a 
troop of children ran across his path as he neared 
the house. They were playing and also quarrelling, 
and the soft summer air was alive with the sound 
of their dispute. Tired and cross, and about to be 
sent to their beds, snappish young tempers had up- 
risen, and some one was being struck. He could 
hear the brisk sound ahead ; then, to his surprise, his 
little girl ran toward him. The small warrior was 
usually able to take her own part, but this time she 
was set upon and punished by the others. 


288 


HER SAILOR. 


She had seen him coming and had run to him rather 
than to her mother; and at this moment he could 
see the dishevelled hair, the twisted face, the torn 
cotton frock. He could feel the pressure of those 
childish arms about his neck, and the tremor of her 
lip against his ear, as she sobbed out a wrathful 
story of those mean, hateful children who had trooped 
over from the village for a last delightful game of 
cross-tag, and then had set upon her and beaten her. 

She was in the wrong of it. She had cheated, the 
other children told him ; but she was his own and 
they were aliens; and as he good-naturedly sent 
them home and led her into the house, comforting 
her with candy and cakes hidden in his pockets, 
the swift and sudden conviction came upon him that 
this charge of his youth was to be the wife of his 
manhood. 

The conviction had grown and deepened, but he 
would not tell her about it just now. It was a story 
that would keep. He would rather make sure of a 
time when she would not laugh at him, and just now 
a doubt hung over her conduct. 

Therefore he would not answer her, and her vol- 
atile mind went off to another subject. “’Steban, 
do you look most like your father or your mother } 

‘‘ My mother,” he said, briefly. 


THE SECRET OF HER LIFE. 289 

“ I should like to have seen her,” said Nina, gazing 
pensively at the lamp. ‘‘ She was a fair, no, a dark 
young thing, that an English skipper fell in love 
with when his vessel was in a Spanish port. He 
did not even know her language. They made signs, 
I suppose. After three short weeks’ acquaintance 
they were married, and she ran away to sea with 
him. He brought her to England to a dear little 
cottage by the sea. There they lived, and there 
one son was born to them.” 

Whom the foreign mother used to thrash within 
an inch of his life,” interposed Captain Fordyce, 
grimly. 

Nina tried to suppress a laugh. In vain, — it broke 
out clear and distinct. ‘‘Oh, ’Steban,” she gasped, 
“ it is too absurd ! Whenever I hear any one talking 
of that exquisite thing, mother-love, I think of you. 
But” — and she became grave again — “perhaps 
she could not help it. I can imagine that you 
might have been — well, just a trifle provoking at 
times.” 

“She should not have beaten me so much,” he 
said, stubbornly. 

“ My dear boy,” said Nina, caressingly, “ don’t 
forget that her husband’s death and being among 
strangers soured her tamper: and you must have 


290 HER SAILOR. 

liked her a little. You were sorry when she died, 
were you not ? ” 

To her surprise, he vouchsafed no answer to this 
question. *‘You have the real John Bull prejudice 
against * furriners,’ ” she said, jestingly. ‘‘How is 
it that you endure me? I am virtually an Ameri- 
can.” 

His lips formed the word, “ No.” 

“I am,” she said, “and it is your own doing. 
You took me away from England, from my mother, 
— my poor darling mother whom I never knew, — 
and she died of a broken heart. Why did she marry 
that man ? ” 

“ Heaven only knows,” he said, gruffly. “He 
never was anything but an oily sneak.” 

“ Would you have married her if she had waited ? ” 
asked Nina. 

For the second time she saw one of the longed- 
for blushes on the face of her husband, — a fiery, 
violent colour that worked itself over his sunburnt 
cheeks and down his brown neck. 

“ She was not very much older than you,” she 
went on, sweetly, “and you must have been very 
fond of her.” 

“ As fond of her as if she had been my sister, and 
no fonder,” he said, impatiently. “Don’t suggest 


THE SECRET OF HER LIFE, 29 1 

that other relationship. I can’t tell you how it 
annoys me.” 

‘‘Some things that you mind I shouldn’t think 
you would,’’ said Nina, wonderingly; “and others 
that you don’t mind I should think would drive you 
crazy. You are queerer than I am.” 

He was deliberately putting away his pipe, and 
she knew what was coming. After the fashion of 
mankind, he was going to swear that he had never 
loved any woman but herself, that even to mention 
another was an insult to him. 

“ Oh, yes,” she said, hastily, “ I know. I beg 
your pardon, and do sit down. You have adored 
me all your life. All other women have been walk- 
ing shadows.” 

“There you are quoting Miss Marsden,” he said, 
disapprovingly. “ I don’t admire that cynical vein.” 

“That reminds me, — I have a letter from her 
somewhere,” cried Nina, springing up. “ Where did 
I put it ? Merdyce gave it to me here at noon and 
I forgot to read it. Where, oh, where.?” and she 
began ransacking the table, chairs, shelves, brackets, 
and even the nautical instruments. 

At last she found it under the scrap-basket beside 
the table, and sat down on the floor for its perusal, 
uttering presently a joyful scream. 


292 


HER SAILOR. 


“ What’s the matter ? ” asked her husband. 

‘‘They’re engaged, they’re engaged, — it was a 
case of love at first sight. Just what I wished and 
expected ! ” 

“ Who are engaged } ” 

“ Miss Marsden and Captain Eversleigh. Oh, the 
darlings ! What a fine couple they will make ! ” 

“Everybody is falling in love but yourself, little 
Nina,” he remarked. “ What a misfortune you can’t 
follow suit ! ” 

“Don’t bother me — I want to finish this,” she 
responded, shaking off his hand from the top of her 
head 

As he continued to stroke her hair she bestowed 
a frown upon him. “ You detestable Spaniard ! ” 

“ Nina,” he said, irritably reseating himself, “ I 
belong to my father’s nation.” 

She stuffed the letter in her pocket, and jumped 
up. “ Now how can you ^ If one of your parents 
was English and the other was Spanish, you must be 
half and half.” 

“Very well, I am Spanish and you are English.” 

“ I am not English,” she said, resolutely. “ I hate 
English people.” 

“Come, come, Nina.” 

“Well, I don’t hate them as much as I did, but 


THE SECRET OF HER LIFE. 


293 

I am American. I was brought up in America; 
and that is my home.” 

With your veins full of English blood.” 

‘‘The country where I played as a child, the 
country where my friends are, the country where I 
went to school, the country where everything is 
familiar, — that is my country. I feel as if I were 
at a party all the time I am in England. It is not 
home.” 

“ All right,” he said, agreeably and absently. 

“’Steban,” said the girl, solemnly, “let us not 
occupy ourselves with the present. Let us talk 
about the past. I can’t get out of my head that 
short bit of history of my mother’s life and yours. 
I wrote it down just the way you told it to me,” 
and she drew a crumpled paper from her breast. 
“ Wouldn’t you like to hear it } ” 

“Very much.” 

She again curled herself up on the rug at his feet, 
and began : “ ‘ Once, many years ago, there lived in 
a small seaside town a very lovely girl, who had for 
guardian an old grandmother. They had a little 
money, — enough to keep them in comfort, — and 
their lives would have been quite happy, but for one 
thing that vexed their tender hearts. In the cot- 
tage next them lived an unhappy child, a miserable. 


294 


HER SAILOR. 


ill-used boy, whose mother, being poor and among 
foreigners, took occasion to vent her spite thereat 
on the head of her offspring. 

“ < He was a provoking boy, bad-tempered, wilful, 
and ungovernable, so every one said but the young 
girl and her foolish old grandmother. They spoiled 
him, gave him kind words whenever he was per- 
mitted to cross their threshold, mended his torn 
garments, and exercised their ingenuity in conveying 
food to him when he was locked up in starving soli- 
tude. When the boy got older, matters improved. 
His Spanish mother found it was easier to knock 
about a helpless child than a strong, sturdy lad ; so 
she sent him to school to a fair, apple-cheeked young 
schoolmaster, as good and wholesome to look at as 
the boy was ill-favoured and unwholesome. 

‘‘ ‘ He had only one fault, this young schoolmaster. 
He was madly jealous of any one who came between 
him and the object of his affections, — the lovely 
young girl with whom he was, or fancied he was, in 
love. For a long time he had vexed himself over 
the knowledge that her sisterly interest in the young 
friendless lad, her neighbour, was so much affection 
stolen from him. So one can imagine that at the 
start he was not prejudiced in favour of his new 
pupil. The boy’s school life was a stormy one. 


THE SECRET OF HER LIFE. 


295 


Worried, held up to derision, and punished on the 
slightest provocation, he at last ignobly determined 
that he would do without an education, and ran away 
to sea. 

‘‘ ‘ For years he never visited his old home. Then 
one day he came back. The cottages were both 
empty ; his mother and the old grandmother were 
dead, and the young girl had married the school- 
master and had gone to live in London. A strong 
desire to see the person who had once been kind to 
him led him to follow her. After some trouble, he 
found her in an untidy, uncomfortable lodging-house, 
ill and alone. 

** ‘ She was very much changed. Her face was 
thin and worn, her beauty had all slipped away from 
her. Still, she said she was well and perfectly happy. 
Her husband was kind to her, so very kind, she 
repeated over and over again, but he could not be 
with her all the time. Now that he was in London 
there were sights to be seen, and acquaintances to 
be made, and she did not expect him to sit by her 
pillow. Still, though her husband was so attentive, 
the sailor said that he would not leave London for a 
time, and would take a room near her in case there 
might be something for him to do. And one day 
the dying woman took his hand, and made him prom- 


296 


HER SAILOR. 


ise solemnly that he would fulfil a request she had 
to make. 

“ ‘ He gave her a blind assent, having perfect faith 
in her. Then she took her tiny child from the 
cradle beside her, and, putting it in his arms, told 
him to go at once and hide it in some safe, far-away 
place, and never, never let its father know where it 
was. He was a good husband, she said, a good, true 
husband, — she would never allow any one to say 
a word against him. But he knew nothing about 
children ; and though she was sure he would make 
a good father, she would not for the world have him 
left sole guardian of her little girl. 

“ ‘ The young sailor got a release from a part of his 
promise. He could not take the child himself, he 
did not wish to leave London just then ; but he would 
send it by safe hands to a place where he could find 
it again. So the child went and the sailor remained, 
and bore the abuse of the affectionate father, who, 
enraged at the loss of his little daughter, accused 
the sailor of having stolen it. Still, wicked and de- 
praved, the young man refused to admit the charge, 
and even when arrested and brought to the bar of 
justice managed to clear himself ; so cleverly had he 
covered up the traces of his guilt. 

“ ‘ Well, time went by, and when the news of the 


THE SECRET OF HER LIFE, 297 

baby’s safe arrival in a distant part reached the 
mother, she too set out on an unknown journey. 
The sailor saw her laid in the grave ; then, he, amidst 
the maledictions of the man he had robbed, took his 
departure. 

‘‘ ‘ His little protegee was where he could see her 
occasionally in his voyages to and fro over the earth’s 
surface. She was quite happy, for the people who 
had taken her treated her as if she were their own 
child. This was by command of the wicked sailor, 
who wished the little girl to have a perfect childhood. 
But at last his villainy cropped out. He stole the 
child again — a woman now — away from her loving, 
adopted parents, put her in his ship, and sailed away 
with her as his father did with his mother, and ’ ” — 
she concluded, dropping the paper and her stilted 
tone of narration at the same time — ‘ he was actu- 
ally foolish enough to imagine she was the sort of 
person who would stay where she was put.’ ” 

So she would,” he said, contentedly. ‘‘ She 
would have stayed where she was put till the time 
came for the sailor to leave England ; then she would 
have begged to be taken with him.” 

No, she would not ; she would have gone to 
London.” 

Captain Fordyce brought his hand down energeti- 


298 


HER SAILOR. 


cally on the table. ** Nina, I would give a hundred 
pounds to have something startle you into saying, * I 
love you.' ” 

She made a hasty effort to change the subject. 
Tell me again how you happened to know papa and 
mama." 

** I was sent to them once to recuperate after hav- 
ing fever in a hospital," he said, indulgently. ‘^They 
lived on a farm in New York State then, and took 
boarders. Just after you were sent to them they 
moved to New Hampshire." 

** And that enabled them to keep up the fiction of 
being my parents," said the girl, thoughtfully. ** I 
want to go right back and see them. The others 
are only dream parents. Yet, I should like, oh, how 
I should like, to have one glimpse of my real, my very 
own mother. It seems to me that she is standing by 
me every night when I go to sleep. I never, never 
thought of this explanation of myself and my affairs." 

Captain Fordyce threw her a pitying glance. 

** How you must have laughed when I suggested 
that I was an heiress," said the girl, vehemently, 
how you must have laughed ! Didn’t you now ? " 
did do some snickering," he admitted, reluc- 
tantly. 

“It was always so in books," said Nina, warmly, 


THE SECRET OF HER LIFE. 299 

“ always money at stake when there was a mystery ; 
but in this case mystery was a precaution. You 
didn’t want my father to know where I was.” 

“ No,” he said, bluntly. 

‘‘And he set spies to watch you, but you were 
equal to them, and he couldn’t find out whether you 
had me in England or America.” 

Her husband muttered an unintelligible response. 

“And when he sent you news of his death, you 
were so sure it was a trick preparatory to his making 
a desperate effort to obtain possession of me, that 
you decided to marry me ? ” 

“Yes, I married you,” he said, shortly; “don’t 
talk about him.” 

“How much did you tell Lady Forrest about 
me } ” 

“Only that you had an undesirable relative in 
England whom I did not wish you to meet.” 

“ Would he have kidnapped me } ” she inquired, 
in an awestruck voice. 

“ I don’t know.” 

“But he is related to me, — that man,” she said, 
passionately. “You must look out for him. I dare 
say he would like some money.” 

“ He will gamble away precious few of my hard- 
earned shillings.” 


300 


HER SAILOR. 


He may get ill.” 

** In that case we will look after him. You need 
not fear that I shall forget the relationship he bears 
to you. While he is in health he is able to look out 
for himself.” 

<‘What does he do for a living.?” asked Nina, 
with a shudder. ‘‘That is one thing you did not 
tell me the other day.” 

Her husband hesitated, then said, unwillingly: 
“He is a jack-of-all-trades. His forte used to be 
gambling ; but I believe now he hangs about thea- 
tres, — he manages to exist.” 

“ Would he have been unkind to me if I had gone 
with him ? ” asked Nina, nervously. 

Her husband scowled. “ Don’t talk about him, — 
he is a brute. He cares no more for you than for 
a dog in the streets. Put him out of your thoughts.” 

Nina leaned her head against a chair seat, closed 
her eyes, and gave herself up to meditation. In 
three minutes she scrambled to her feet, and flung 
her hands out before her. “ It’s gone ! ” 

“ What has gone ? ” 

“ My worry. It has flown away, vanished. I shall 
be happy again.” 

“Are you not always happy now.?” he asked, 
curiously. 


THE SECRET OF HER LIFE. 30 1 

“The last few days — yes. I can scarcely keep 
my feet on the ground. I wish to fly, but I shall 
soon be dull. Always it is like that. For a few days 
I could embrace every one, then I wish to slap the 
whole world in the face.” 

“ Don’t do it, you will get slapped back.” 

“ I am getting old,” said the girl, seriously. “ An 
old, old lady told me this afternoon that a day will 
come when I will see nothing good in life, and will 
want to die. Do you feel like that, ’Steban } ” 

“ All the time.” 

“Story-teller, you do not. You are not hateful 
and cynical.” 

“Yes, I am. You don’t know me yet.” 

“You sha’n’t be cynical,” she said, energetically. 
“I will not have it,” and, rolling her handkerchief 
in a ball, she threw it at him. 

This was a challenge to a frolic, and he rose 
agreeably. Nina was surveying the door and her 
chances of getting to it without interruption. They 
were few, but still she could try. She made a feint 
of going around one side of a chair, when, in reality, 
she was going the other, but her ruse was unsuc- 
cessful. Her husband was watching her with the 
attentive eyes of a cat amused at, and bent on cap- 
turing, an unfortunate mouse, delivered into his 


302 


HER SAILOR. 


claws by destiny. Rising, he laid his arm across 
the door, — an effectual barrier to her outward 
progress. 

It is getting late,” she said, dancing a frantic 
pas seul about the chair that she had not been able 
to clear with sufficient speed, “ do let me out.” 

He brought all his powers of fascination to bear 
on her. She never caressed him. It was he who 
bestowed all the endearments. Would she not give 
him one, just one kiss } His tone, though firm, was 
despairing, and she knew he had not the faintest 
hope of getting what he wanted. It would really be 
amusing to disappoint him. 

‘‘You — you corsair,” she said, with an imperious 
stamp of her foot. “ Take your arm away from that 
door and come here.” 

He silently obeyed her. 

“ Sit down in that chair,” she said, with a flourish 
of her hand ; “ now fold your arms. I don’t want 
them twining around me like the tentacles of an 
octopus.” 

He complied submissively, and then she made a 
pretence at bashfulness and shyness. For some 
time she apparently could not approach him ; then 
her will triumphed over her scruples, and he felt a 
warm breathing against his ear. 


THE SECRET OF HER LIFE. 


303 


*‘As men go,” she whispered, ‘‘you are passable. 
I can never love you, but I like you passionately.” 

The breathing became a ripple of laughter. She 
suddenly choked him in a childish embrace, then 
leaving him sitting like a statue, his arms closely 
pressed together, she darted away. 


CHAPTER XXL 


“ALONE ON A WIDE, WIDE SEA.” 

“ What fun this is ! ” exclaimed the pretty boy, 
Charlie Dacy. 

He was convulsed with amusement, filled with 
unlawful delight. On each side of the companion 
was a small recess that commanded a view of the 
steps leading below. He had put Nina in one, and 
he stood in the other ; and he was busily engaged 
in chaffing the various specimens of humanity who 
made their way up and down this particular opening 
to the deck. 

Nina knew she ought not to stay, and at intervals 
made feeble efforts to escape him ; but he was so 
amusing, and was so fond, or pretended to be 
so fond, of her society, that she could not get away. 

“ Here come the Hook and Eye,” he exclaimed, 
gleefully, “ I hear them rattling down the passage ! ” 

A lean, gaunt woman in a black bonnet and green 
veil came tugging up the stairway, a diminutive 
husband hanging loosely and helplessly on her arm. 
304 


ALONE ON A WIDE, WIDE SEA:* 305 

The boy politely took off his cap when they came 
abreast of him. ‘‘Does your husband find himself 
in recovered health this afternoon, madam?’* 

“ Hold your saucy tongue,” said the woman, 
abruptly and unexpectedly, as she passed him. 

“Sharper than I thought,” he muttered, stagger- 
ing back as if he had received a blow. 

To atone for his misconduct, Nina followed the 
strange pair out on deck, and quite restored them to 
good humour by sending a steward to get a comfort- 
able chair for the husband. Then she went back, 
resolving to exercise her powers of persuasion on 
Master Charles to get him to leave his present 
employment, and play shuffleboard with her. 

He had both hands up to his mouth when she 
reached him. With red, inflated cheeks, and a seem- 
ingly prodigious exercise of strength, he was in a 
whisper proclaiming, “ Ship ahoy ! ” He dared not 
say it aloud, for it was Captain Fordyce who was 
coming slowly up the stair, his head bent, his 
handkerchief twisted loosely in his fingers. 

The instant his eyes were raised the boy dropped 
his hands, and stood before him sober and respectful. 

Captain Fordyce looked at him, and as the hand- 
some youth had become Nina’s almost inseparable 
companion, he asked, “Where is my wife, Dacy ? ” 


3o6 


HER SAILOR. 


I think she must be hiding from you, sir. She 
was here until she saw you coming.” 

** Here I am,” said Nina, coming forward. 

‘‘I have got a cinder in my eye, will you take 
it out ? ” inquired her husband, stepping out on deck 
and handing her his handkerchief. 

Dacy had followed them, and looked on with inter- 
est as Nina warily chased a tiny piece of coal about 
her husband’s inflamed eyelid. 

‘‘ You should have some flaxseed,” he said, criti- 
cally ; ‘‘ that is the best way to get anything out 
of the eye. You put in one or two grains, and they 
swell and emit a sticky substance which covers your 
eyeball, and takes in the cinder or whatever has got 
in. Then you just wash the whole thing out, and 
you haven’t irritated your membrane.” 

‘‘ A good scheme,” said Captain Fordyce, “ but 
unfortunately there is no flaxseed here. Ah ! there 
it is,” and he held up a jagged cinder. 

‘‘Whew! that’s a large one,” exclaimed the boy, 
pityingly; “why, sir, you’ve been carrying about a 
stoker in your eye.” 

“‘A chief engineer,’ we call that size,” replied 
Captain Fordyce, dryly, pressing his handkerchief to 
his face, and looking as if he were about to go 


ALONE ON A WIDE, WIDE SEA: 


307 


“ Can’t you stay for a little while ? ” asked Nina, 
balancing herself against a near boat, and glancing 
shyly up at him. 

He smiled, turned his back to everything on the 
ship but her, and began to talk in a low tone. This 
was one of her elusive days. She had scarcely 
spoken a word to him since breakfast. 

While he talked. Prince Charlie sat perched on 
the rail a little beyond him, in a lonely and discon- 
solate fashion. He knew that he was not wanted 
just now ; and Nina smiled as she saw, over her 
husband’s shoulder, that he was making a pretence 
of throwing himself overboard. 

Agile, sure-footed as a monkey, how did it happen 
that when she raised remonstrating eyes after a sen- 
tence that, coming from the sensible man before 
her, was nonsensical to the last degree, she saw 
that the boy’s play had turned to frightful earnest .? 

He had lost his balance. One glimpse she had of 
a pale, resolved face, two boyish, eager hands clutch- 
ing wildly at the rail ; then without a sound he 
dropped bravely into the ocean. 

‘‘ Man overboard ! Man overboard ! ” The pierc- 
ing cry rang over the ship, and made her blood run 
cold in her veins. Then other voices took it up ; 
and her husband, with his foolish sentence not yet 


308 


HER SAILOR. 


cold on his lips, muttered a strangely mixed “ Con- 
found that boy ! ” and God bless you, darling ! ” 
and was swinging himself over the side of the ship. 

Nina clung to his arm with all her strength. 
“ His mother — I promised her to look after him,” 
he said, putting her aside as easily as if she were 
a baby ; and she wrung her hands as he escaped 
from her grasp. 

Some one had thrown a life-buoy. He struck 
out for it as he reached the water ; then with swift, 
steady strokes swam toward the dash of gold on 
the blue waters astern, where poor Prince Charlie 
was making a gallant struggle for life. 

The officer of the watch was shouting directions 
in a calm, stentorian voice : ** Stop and reverse ! 
Lower the lee quarter bo-o-at ! ” 

Sailors came hurrying down the deck to fulfil his 
orders. Nina heard, but did not see them, for her 
tortured eyes were fixed on the jet-black spot grow- 
ing fainter and fainter in the distance. Something 
that was not fear, that was rather exultant pride 
and agitation, swelled her heart almost to bursting. 
The tears streaming down her cheeks, she fell on her 
knees and sent to heaven a frantic, earnest prayer 
that the strength of his arm might not fail, that his 
heart might be strong. 


ALONE ON A WIDE, WIDE SEA: 


309 


But what was this ? In one instant, as effectu- 
ally as if giant hands from the sky had lowered and 
folded around them a heavy blanket, everything be- 
yond the bulwarks of their ship was cut off from 
their vision, swallowed up in the fog. 

“ O God,’* she muttered, ‘‘ why must this one 
day be darkened ? ” 

Then she rose from her knees, hard and unbe- 
lieving, now that her petition was about to be denied 
her. There was no hope now, and what would her 
life be ? Through the sullen folds of the fog she 
saw stretching out before her a long, black, solitary 
road leading to an open grave. And she must walk 
that road alone. 

She groped her way across the deck and struggled 
into her room. Broken-hearted and despairing, her 
whole soul rebelling with a dull, human protest 
against the fate that follows us, overshadows and 
dogs us to the tomb, she stood motionless till out 
of the terrible hush outside rose a shriek like that 
of a lost soul. 

It was only the fog-horn ; but it put into her head 
a new and ghastly thought. The other was terrible 
enough, — a vision of feeble, weakening hands, beat- 
ing helplessly against the waves; but this, — the 
sickening thought drove her mad, That dear head 


310 


HER SAILOR. 


in the maw of a monster of the deep, — a blessed 
oblivion came over her. 

One quarter of an hour went by, then another, 
and at the end of the second Nina turned feebly and 
murmured, What is it, Merdyce ? ” 

Ever since the day that he repulsed her in her 
quest for her husband, the boy had been her faith- 
ful, devoted attendant, ready in every case to fulfil 
her wishes, sometimes even to anticipate them. He 
was gently shaking her arm now. Never on the 
face of the great deep would there be a more de- 
lighted face rising above a black jacket and brass 
buttons. 

‘‘Have I been asleep.^” she whispered. “Why, 
the sun is shining ; it must be morning. And have 
I been all night on the floor ^ 

Bit by bit the day came back to her, as he splut- 
tered and gurgled confused sentences. 

“ They’ve come — ’twas mortal hard work to find 
them — a powerful swim — the boy dead weight — 
had to swim with one hand — the master — ” 

“ What ! ” shrieked Nina, springing to her feet, 
“ my husband ! ” 

With one bound she was outside. Hundreds of 
people were thronging the decks, swarming over the 
skylights, the cabins, the rigging, and from them all 


“ ALONE ON A WIDE, WIDE SEA» 3 1 1 

was going up a mighty shout. For the feet of the 
boat’s crew had just touched the deck. 

No one noticed her. One brief, upward glance, 
a short, intense thanksgiving, and then, like a fright- 
ened bird kept from her nest, she was circling around 
the crowd of people, trying to reach the place where 
she saw standing a wet, capless, coatless, bedraggled 
figure. 

He saw her coming, and opened a way for her. 
Her eyes were shining with the long-looked-for light, 
full into his. Below the words of congratulation and 
confused talk that surrounded him, her low-spoken 
words pierced his soul, ‘‘ My darling ! — I do love 
you.” And he knew that the dream of years was 
realised at last. She was clinging to his hand, lay- 
ing her cheek against it, with something new in 
the caress, — something that had never been there 
before. 

Nor had she eyes for any other person ; not even 
for Prince Charlie, who had come back from the jaws 
of death only a little sobered, and who was standing 
in a pool of water beside her, shivering and mur- 
muring, waggishly, “ Home they brought her warrior 
wet.” 

It drew Captain Fordyce’s attention to him. 

Dacy, go and put on some dry things,” he said. 


312 


HER SAILOR. 


quickly. Then he turned his attention again to his 
wife. 

She was murmuring fond, wild words to herself. 
He smiled, whispered a few words in her ear, then, 
putting her gently aside, went to exchange his brine- 
soaked garments for other more suitable ones. But 
he went in peace and in joy, knowing that he would 
shortly return to her to meet her long delayed but 
full surrender. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


I LOVE YOU. 

It was two years later. Captain Fordyce and his 
wife were in London, walking leisurely in the vicinity 
of Buckingham Palace. 

There was a drawing-room going on, and they 
gazed curiously at the long line of carriages drawn 
up outside the palace ; and not only at them, but 
oftentimes into them. 

The carriage occupants took their scrutiny as a 
matter of course. “ ’Steban,” said his wife, trying 
to draw him away from what she feared was a too 
noticeably disapproving survey of the thin shoulders 
of an emaciated dowager, ** what can be going on in 
this carriage ? There is quite a crowd about it.” 

Looking over the heads of some small urchins in 
the gutter, they saw two very pretty girls, who were 
disposing of sandwiches in an exceedingly well-bred 
manner. 

‘‘ Slaves to fashion ! ” remarked Captain Fordyce. 
‘‘ How would you like to be in there, Nina ? *’ 

313 


514 


HER SAILOR. 


‘<To sit in a stiff dress and hold a bouquet is not 
my idea of happiness,” she said, smilingly ; “ yet if I 
were as lovely as those girls — ” 

*‘They have not a tithe of your good looks,” he 
said, with a genuine masculine depreciation of the 
thing that did not belong to him. Then, turning 
his back on the fascinating demoiselles, he stifled a 
yawn, and, consulting his watch, asked whether she 
did not wish to go back to their hotel. 

“Yes, if you like,” she said, amiably, pausing to 
cast a glance into a near-by carriage. Within it, 
seated beside an officer in a military uniform, was 
a lady magnificent in ostrich plumes and a gleaming 
white satin, the train of which was heaped up in 
billowy white waves on the seat in front of her. 

Nina uttered a delighted shriek, and the next 
instant her head disappeared through the open 
carriage window, and she was embracing her old 
friend, Lena Marsden. 

“You little barbarian ! ” exclaimed the latter, kiss- 
ing her affectionately, and then pushing her back in 
order to look at her face. “ Where have you been 
these ages past ? I have not had a line from you for 
six months.” 

“ Ask my copper-hearted captain,” she said, as her 
husband, in utter mystification, stepped up behind 


/ LOVE YOU. 315 

her ; ‘‘ he has the cruelty to drag me all about the 
world with him.” 

Don’t believe her, Mrs. Eversleigh,” said Cap- 
tain Fordyce, lifting his hat and shaking hands with 
her ; “ she made me give up the Merrimac because 
on a steamer it is not always practicable for a man 
to have his family with him.” 

^‘And you have left that fine old ship,” said 
Captain Eversleigh, where we — ” An eloquent 
glance at his wife completed the sentence. 

Captain Fordyce smiled. *‘Yes, but I have now 
one of the finest sailing ships afloat, — the Nina'' 

** And where are you ? " inquired Mrs. Eversleigh. 

*‘At Southampton,” replied Nina; *‘we are just 
from Japan.” 

Mrs. Eversleigh critically surveyed her : a sedate 
and quiet happiness enveloped the girl ; she also 
looked older and slightly matronly. Yet she had 
not lost the mischievous gleam from her eye. The 
old merry, vivacious spirit was visible, subdued but 
still intact. “ You appear foreign,” said Mrs. Evers- 
leigh, at last. 

‘‘I ought to,” observed Nina. ‘‘I bought this 
dress in South America last winter, my hat is from 

the South Sea Islands, my jacket from Japan, and 
>» 


so on. 


3i6 


HER SAILOR. 


‘‘And do you always go with your husband?’* 
Nina’s eyes went to him, and, seeing that he was 
deep in conversation with Captain Eversleigh, she 
said, earnestly : “ Always, — I should be utterly mis- 
erable away from him, and he would be utterly 
miserable away from the sea. So we manage to 
keep together. He has everything so comfortable 
for me. I have a little cabin boudoir, the dearest 
nest of a place, with curtains of blue satin and a 
carpet that one’s feet sink into, and busts of all 
my favourite authors, and a cast of the Milo Venus 
behind — not a red drapery like the one in the 
Louvre, but a blue velvet one to match the room, 
and — ” 

“Why, I must come and see all this,” said Mrs. 
Evresleigh, in an interested way. 

“ Do come,” said Captain Fordyce, turning to 
her ; “ we are only seventy-five miles from London, 
you know. You can take a run down some morning, 
and return in the evening if you wish.” 

“Yes, let us go,” said Captain Eversleigh, glancing 
at his wife’s pale face, “a breath of the salt air will 
do you good,” and he proceeded to make arrange- 
ments with Captain Fordyce. 

“ And where are you going next ? ” said Mrs. 
Eversleigh to Nina. 


/ LOVE YOU. 


317 


“To Spain for a cargo of wine and fruit.” 

“ Don’t you get tired of these long voyages } 
What do you do to amuse yourself } ” 

“ She runs up and down the ship with her baby 
on her back,” said Captain Fordyce, turning around. 

Nina was disturbed. This was an undignified 
thing to tell the very grand lady before them. “ I 
only do that occasionally,” she said, stiffly ; and, dart- 
ing a rebuking glance at him, “ I have a great many 
other occupations. I read, and sew, and paint, and 
practise several hours a day. I have a piano and 
an organ, too.” The old-time childlike na'fvete was 
delightfully revealed in her manner and speech at 
this moment. 

“And she shoots at things hung up in the 
rigging,” went on her husband, who seemed bent 
on teasing her, “and talks nonsense to me, and 
writes letters to the dear five hundred friends she 
makes in every port we touch.” 

Nina’s displeasure had passed away. “ And some- 
times there are useful things to do,” she said, seri- 
ously. “ Sometimes sailors get ill, — do you know 
anything about life on sailing ships, dear Lena 
Ever sleigh } ” 

“ Nothing, whatever.” 

Nina shuddered. “ There is a great deal of cruelty 


HER SAILOR. 


318 

in the world. ’Steban tells me of it, and we help 
a little. I assure you I am quite a changed character 
from former days.” 

‘‘ Indeed ! ” said Mrs. Eversleigh, with polite in- 
credulity. She was inwardly wondering how her 
young friend had been able to retain so much of 
girlish freshness, sweetness, and caprice. 

“I am far more serious,” continued Nina, soberly, 
still bent on revealing the depths which time actually 
had added to her nature ; “ you would like me far 
better now. I don’t see how you could have stood 
me two years ago.” 

‘‘ You were slightly impossible,” said Mrs. Evers- 
leigh, suppressing her amusement. 

used to dislike English people, and I just 
loved to talk nonsense ; and I didn’t mean all I 
said ; and though I knew more than people thought 
I knew, I had no conception of the realities of life, 
and — ” 

In short, you were quite a depraved character,” 
remarked her old friend. 

Nina stopped short. They were all laughing at 
her, and she good-naturedly joined in their amuse- 
ment. 

“Your life sounds a pleasant one,” said Mrs. 
Eversleigh, after a time, and with a faint sigh. 


/ LOF£ YOU. 


319 

^‘You don’t have that monster fashionable life 
always biting and worrying at your heels, and 
urging you into all kinds of excesses.” 

‘‘ Stay with us for awhile, Mrs. Eversleigh,” said 
Captain Fordyce ; ‘‘and perhaps we will get you out 
of all this. I want a first mate for my ship. Your 
husband is a man of many parts, I think we should 
work well together.” 

“And I should have you to talk to,” exclaimed 
Nina. “ How charming that would be ! Don’t you 
want to be a sailor. Captain Eversleigh } ” 

He glanced at his handsome uniform, laughed 
heartily, then said : “ What are you two people 
looking forward to } Are you going to sail the wide 
ocean all the days of your lives } ” 

“My wife’s plan,” said Captain Fordyce, “is for 
us to forsake the sea in about ten or fifteen years, 
and settle down on shore, and devote ourselves to 
the education of our child, but one is certain of 
nothing in this life.” 

“Well,” said Mrs. Eversleigh to Nina, “if you do 
take up your habitation upon land, let it be near 
us — and now tell me something about the child. 
What is he like .? ” 

“ He is the most perfect thing you ever saw,” 
cried Nina, rapturously, “a little, dark-haired boy 


320 


HER SAILOR. 


with an exquisite head, and the sweetest hands and 
feet, and the disposition of a seraph.” 

“And only the other morning,” said her hus- 
band, with qualifying calmness, “I saw him with a 
handful of your brown hair in his hand.” 

“Don’t believe him, Mrs. Eversleigh,” said Nina, 
anxiously. “ Come and see for yourself.” 

“And now we must go,” said Captain Fordyce, 
resolutely, “or we shall miss our train. We have 
been in London for three days, and I am anxious 
to get back to the ship.” 

“ Good-bye, good-bye,” said Nina, reluctantly, 
“don’t forget next week,” and she followed him 
slowly across the street. In the middle of an ex- 
tremely muddy crossing she stopped to look back. 
There was a stir along the line of carriages, the 
Eversleigh’s coachman touched the chestnuts with 
his whip, they started, went a few steps, then 
stopped again. 

“ They may be there for an hour yet,” said Cap- 
tain Fordyce, looking over his shoulder, “how would 
you like to be with them, little wife ? ” 

Despite her certain knowledge that this was bare- 
faced angling for a compliment, she could not keep 
the softly spoken words from her lips, “ I had rather 
be with you/’ 


/ LOVE YOU. 


321 


He looked at her from his station on the curb- 
stone, — well-pleased ; for nothing flatters a man so 
much as the happiness of his wife ; he is always 
proud of himself as the source of it. 

Then giving her a hand to help her beside him, 
he murmured, Will you not repeat to me those 
three little words that you say so often and so 
prettily } ” 

She lifted her glowing face, and, as he bent over 
her, she whispered against his brown cheek, “ I love 
you ! ” 


THE END. 


1 


( 


i 

I 





SELECTIONS FROM 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 
LIST OF FICTION 


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0 


Selections from 
L* C* page and Company's 
List of fiction 

An Enemy to the King. (Twentieth Thousand.) 

From the Recently Discovered Memoirs of the 
Sieur de la Tournoire. By Robert Neilson Ste- 
phens. Illustrated by H. De M. Young. 

I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth . . . $1.25 

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By Robert Neilson Stephens, author of ‘‘An 
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LIST OF FICTION. 


5 


A Gentleman Player. 

His Adventures on a Secret Mission for Queen 
Elizabeth. By Robert Neilson Stephens, author 
of ^‘Ari Enemy to the King,” <‘The Continental 
Dragoon,” ‘‘The Road to Paris/' etc. Illustrated by 
Frank T. Merrill. 

I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth, 450 pages $1.50 

“ A Gehtleman Player ” is a romance of the Elizabethan period. 
It relates the story of a young gentleman who, in the reign of Eliza- 
beth, falls so low in his fortune that he joins Shakespeare’s company 
of players, and becomes a friend and protege of the great poet. 
Throughout the course of his adventures the hero makes use of his 
art as an actor and his skill as a swordsman, and the denouement of 
the plot is brought about by means of a performance by Shakespeare’s 
company of a play in an inn yard. 


Rose a Charlitte. (Eighth Thousand.) 

An Acadien Romance. By Marshall Saunders, 
author of “Beautiful Joe,” etc. Illustrated by H. De 
M. Young. 

I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth $1.50 

“ A very fine novel we unhesitatingly pronounce it . . . one of the books that 
stamp themselves at once -upon the imagination and remain imbedded in the memory- 
long after the covers are closed.” — Literary World, Boston. 


Deficient Saints. 

A Tale of Maine. By Marshall Saunders, author 
of “Rose k Charlitte,” “Beautiful Joe,” etc. Illus- 
trated by Frank T. Merrill. 

I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth, 400 pages $1.50 

In this story Marshall Saunders follows closely the fortunes of a 
French family whose history is bound up with that of the old Pine- 
tree State. These French people become less and less French until, 
at last, they are Americans, intensely loyal to their State and their 
country. Although “ Deficient Saints ” is by no means a historical 
novel, frequent references are made to th®. aarbr romantic history of 
Maine. 


4 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY’S 


Her Sailor. {In Press.) 

A Novel. By Marshall Saunders, author of 
** Rose k Charlitte,” Beautiful Joe,” etc. Illustrated. 
I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth, 250 pages $1.25 

A story of modern life of great charm and pathos, dealing with 
the love affairs of an American girl and a naval officer.'' 


Midst the Wild Carpathians. 

By Maurus Jokai, author of “Black Diamonds,” 
“The Lion of Janina,” etc. Authorized translation 
by R. Nisbet Bain. Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. 

I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth $1.25 

“The story is absorbingly interesting and displays all the virility of Jokai’s 
powers, his genius of description, his keenness of characterization, his subtlety of 
humor and his consummate art in the progression of the novel from one apparent 
climax to another.” — Chicago Evening Post. 


Pretty Michal. 

A Romance of Hungary. By Maurus Jokai, author 
of “Black Diamonds,” “The Green Book,” “Midst 
the Wild Carpathians,” etc. Authorized translation 
by R. Nisbet Bain. Illustrated with a photogravure 
frontispiece of the great Magyar writer. 

I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth decorative, 325 pages $1.50 

“ It is at once a spirited tale of ‘ border chivalry,’ a charming love story full of 
genuine poetry, and a graphic picture of life in a country and at a period both equally 
new to English readers.” — Literary World, London. 


In Kings’ Houses. 

A Romance of the Reign of Queen Anne. By 
Julia C. R. Dorr, author of “ A Cathedral Pilgrim- 
age,” etc. Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill. 

I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth . . . - . $1.50 

“ We close the book with a wish that the author may write more romance of the 
history of England which she knows so well.” — Bookman, New York. 

“A fine strong story which is a relief to come upon. Related with charming 
simple art.” — Philadelphia Public Ledger. 

rv • 


LIST OF FICTION. 


5 


Manders. 

A Tale of Paris. By Elwyn Barron. Illustrated. 
I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth, 350 pages . . $1.50 

“ Bright descriptions of student life in Paris, sympathetic views of human frailty, 
and a dash of dramatic force, combine to form an attractive story. The book contains 
some very strong scenes, plenty of life and color, and a pleasant tinge of humor. 
... It has grip, picturesqueness, and vivacity.” — The Speaker {London). 

“ A study of deep human interest, in which pathos and humor both play their parts. 
The descriptions of life in the Quartier Latin are distinguished for their freshness and 
liveliness.” — St. James Gazette {London). 

“A romance sweet as violets.” — Town Topics {New York). 


in Old New York. {In Press.) 

A Romance. By Wilson Barrett, author of The 
Sign of the Cross,” etc., and Elwyn Barron, author 
of ‘‘ Manders.” Illustrated. 

I vol., lib. i2mo, cloth, 350 pages . . $1.50 

A historical romance of great vigor and interest. The collabora- 
tion of Mr. Barrett with Mr. Barron, the successful author of “ Man- 
ders,” is a sufficient guarantee of the production of a volume of 
fiction which wiU take very high rank. 


Omar the Tentmaker. 

A Romance of Old Persia. By Nathan Haskell 
Dole. Illustrated by F. T. Merrill. 

I vol., lib. i2mo, cloth . . . . $1.50 

“ The story itself is beautiful and it is beautifully written. It possesses the true 
spirit of romance, and is almost poetical in form. The author has undoubtedly been 
in.spired by his admiration for the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam to write this story of 
which Omar is the hero.” — Troy Times. 

* “ Mr. Dole has built a delightful romance.”— Chicago Chronicle. 

“ It is a strong and vividly written story, full of the life and spirit of romance.” — 
New Orleans Picayune. 

The Golden Dog. 

A Romance of Quebec. By William Kirby. New 
authorized edition. Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. 

I vol., lib. i2mo, cloth .... $1.25 

“ A powerful romance of love, intrigue, and adventure in the time of Louis XV. and 
Mme. de Pompadour, when the French colonies were making their great struggle to 
retain for an ungrateful court the fair«<«t jewels in the colonial diadem of France.” — 
New York Herald. 


6 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY’S 


The Making of a Saint. 

By W. Somerset Maugham. Illustrated by Gib 
bert James. 

I vol., lib. i2mo, cloth .... $1.50 

“ An exceedingly strong story of original motive and design. . . . The scenes are 
imbued with a spirit of frankness . , . and in addition there is a strong dramatic 
flavor.” — Philadelphia Press. 

“ A sprightly tale abounding in adventures, and redolent of the spirit of mediaeval 
Italy.” — Brooklyn Times. 

Friendship and Folly. 

A novel. By Maria- Louise Pool, author of 
‘‘Dally,” “A Redbridge Neighborhood,” “In a Dike 
Shanty,” etc. Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. 

I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth .... $1.25 

“ The author handles her elements with skilful fingers — fingers that feel their way 
most truthfully among the actual emotions and occurrences of nineteenth century 
romance. Hers is a frank, sensitive touch, and the result is both complete and full of 
interest.” — Boston Ideas. 

“The story will rank with the best previous work of this author.” — Indianapolis 
News. 

The Knight of King’s Guard. 

A Romance of the Days of the Black Prince. By 
Ewan Martin. Illustrated by Gilbert James. 

I vol., lib. i2mo, cloth, 300 pages . . $1.50 

An exceedingly well written romance, dealing with the romantic 
period chronicled so admirably by Froissart. The scene is laid at a 
border castle between England and Scotland, the city of London, and 
on the French battle-fields of Cressy and Poitiers. Edward the Third, 
Queen Philippa, the Black Prince, Bertrand du Guesclin, are all his- 
torical characters, accurate reproductions of which give life and vitality 
to the romance'. The character of the hero is especially well drawn. 

The Rejuvenation of fliss Semaphore. 

A farcical novel. By Hal Godfrey. Illustrated 
by Etheldred B. Barry. 

I vol., lib. i2mo, cloth . . , . . $1.25 

“ A fanciful, laughable tale of two maiden sisters of uncertain age who are induced, 
by their natural longing for a return to youth and its blessings, to pay a large sum for 
a mystical water which possesses the value of setting backwards the hands of time. 
No more delightfully fresh and original book has appeared since ‘Vice Versa’ 
charmed an amused world. It is well written, drawn to the life, and full of the mos* 
enjoyable humor.” — Boston Beacon. 


LIST OF FICTION. 


7 


Cross Trails. 

By Victor Waite. Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. * 
I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth .... $1.50 

“ A Spanish-American novel of unusual interest, a brilliant, dashing, and stirring 
story, teeming with humanity and life. Mr. Waite is to be congratulated upon the 
strength with which he has drawn his characters.” — San Francisco Chroniclg. 

“ Every page is enthralling.” — A cademy. 

“ Full of strength and reality.” — A theneenm. 

“ The book is exceedingly powerful.” — Glasgow Herald. 


The Paths of the Prudent. 

By J. S. Fletcher, author of ^‘When Charles I. 
was King,” “ Mistress Spitfire,” etc. Illustrated by 
J. W. Kennedy. 

I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth, 300 pages . . $1.50 

“ The story has a curious fascination for the reader, and the theme and characters 
are handled with rare ability.” — Scotsman. 

“ Dorinthia is charming. The story is told with great humor.” — Pall Mall 
Gazette. 

“ An excellently well told story, and the reader’s interest is perfectly sustained to 
the very end.” — Punch. 

Bijli the Dancer. 

By James Blythe Patton. Illustrated by Horace 
Van Rinth. 

I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth .... $1.50 

“ A novel of Modem India. . . . The fortunes of the heroine, an Indian Nautch 
girl, are told with a vigor, pathos, and a wealth of poetic sympathy that makes the book 
admirable from first to last.” — Detroit Free Press. 

“ A remarkable book.” — Bookman. 

“ Powerful and fascinating.” — Pall Mall Gazette. 

“ A vivid picture ot Indian life.” — Academy i^London). 


Drives and Puts. 

A Book of Golf Stories. By, Walter Camp and 
Lilian Brooks. Illustrated. 

I vol, lib. i2mo, cloth decorative . . $1.25 

Considering the great and growing interest in golf, — perhaps the 
king of sports, — this volume, written by Walter Camp, the eminent 
authority on sports, in collaboration with Lilian Brooks, the well- 
known writer of short stories, is sure to be a success. 


8 L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


‘‘To Arms!” 

Being Some Passages from the Early Life of Allan 
Oliphant, Chirurgeon, Written by Himself, and now 
Set P'orth for the First Time. By Andrew Balfour. 
Illustrated by F. W. Glover. 

I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth . . . . $1.50 

“ A tale of ‘ Bonnie Tweedside,’ and St. D5mans and Auld Reekie, — a fair picture 
of the country under misrule and usurpation and all kinds of vicissitudes. Allan Oli- 
phant is a great hero.” — Chicago Times-Herald. 

“ A recital of thrilling interest, told with unflagging vigor.” — Globe. 

“ An unusually excellent example of a semi-historic romance.” — World. 


The River of Pearls; or, The Red Spider. 

A Chinese Romance. By Rene de Pont-Jest, 
with sixty illustrations from original drawings by 
Felix Rdgamey. 

I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth, 300 pages . . $1.50 

Close acquaintance with the manners and customs of the Chinese 
has enabled the author to write a story which is instructive as well as 
interesting. The book, as a whole, shows the writer to be possessed 
of a strong descriptive faculty, as well as keen insight into the charac- 
ters of the people of whom he is writing. The plot is cleverly con- 
ceived and well worked out, and the story abounds with incidents of 
the most exciting and sensational character. Enjoyment of its perusal 
is increased by the powerful illustrations of Felix Regam ey. 

The book may be read with profit by any one who wishes to real- 
ize the actual condition of native life in China. 


Frivolities. 

Especially Addressed to Those who are Tired of 
being Serious. By Richard Marsh, author of Tom 
Ossington’s Ghost,” etc. 

I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth, 340 pages . . $1.50 

A dozen stories in an entirely new vein for Mr. Marsh. The humor 
is irresistible, and carries the reader on breathlessly from one laugh to 
another. The style, though appealing to a totally different side of 
complex human nature, is as strong and effective as the author’s 
intwise and dramatic work in “ Tom Ossington’s Ghost.” 


LIST OF FICTION. 


9 


Via Lucis. 

By Kassandra Vivaria. With portrait of the 
author. 

I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth .... $1.50 

“ ‘ Via Lucis Ms — we say it unhesitatingly — a striking and interesting production.” 
— London A thenceum. 

“ Without doubt the most notable novel of the summer is this strong story of Ital- 
ian life, so full of local color one can almost see the cool, shaded patios and the flame 
of the pomegranate blossom, and smell the perfume of the grapes growing on the hill- 
sides. It is a story of deep and passionate heart interests, of fierce loves and fiercer 
hates, of undisciplined natures that work out their own bitter destiny of woe. There 
has hardly been a finer piece of portraiture than that of the child Arduina, — the child 
of a sickly and unloved mother and a cruel and vindictive father, — a morbid, queer, 
lonely little creature, who is left to grow up without love or training of any kind.” — New 
Orleans Picayune. 


Lally of the Brigade. 

A Romance of the Irish Brigade in France during 
the Time of Louis the Fourteenth. By L. McManus, 
author of The Silk of the Kine,” “ The Red Star,” 
etc. Illustrated. 

I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth, 250 pages . . $1.25 

The scene of this romance is partly at the siege of Crimona (held 
by the troops of Louis XIV.) by the Austrian forces under Prince 
Eugene. During the siege the famous Irish Brigade renders valiant 
service, and the hero — a dashing young Irishman — is in the thick 
of the fighting. He is also able to give efficient service in unravelling 
a political intrigue, in which the love affairs of the hero and the 
heroine are interwoven. 


Sons of Adversity. 

A Romance of Queen Elizabeth’s Time. By L. 
Cope Cornford, author of “ Captain Jacobus,” etc. . 
Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. 

I vol., lib. i2mo, cloth .... $1.25 

a tale of adventure on land and sea at the time when Protestant England ^d 
Catholic Spain were struggling for naval supremacy. Spanish conspiracies against 
the peace of good Queen Bess, a vivid description of the raise of the Spanish siege of 
Leyden by the combined Dutch and English forces, sea fights, the recovery of stolen 
treasure, are all skilfully woven elements in a plot of^unusual strength.” — 

Bulletin, ^ 


lO 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY S 


The Archbishop’s Unguarded Moment. 

By Oscar Fay Adams. Illustrated. 

I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth decorative . . $1.25 

Mr. Adams is well known as a writer of short stories. As the title 
indicates, these stories deal with dignitaries of the Episcopal Church. 
The mingled pathos and humor, which Mr. Adams has handled so 
admirably in describing his characters, make a book of more thak 
average interest for the reader of fiction. 


Captain Fracasse. 

Translated from the French of Gautier. By Ellen 
Murray Beam. Illustrated by Victor A. Searles. 

I vol., lib. i2mo, cloth .... $1.25 

“ The story is one of the best in romantic fiction, for upon it Gautier lavished his 
rare knowledge of the twelfth century.” — San Francisco Chronicle. 

“ One of those rare stories in which vitality is abundant.” — Netv York Herald. 


The Count of Nideck. 

From the French of Erckmann-Chatrian, translated 
and adapted by Ralph Browning Fiske. Illustrated 
by Victor A. Searles. 

I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth .... $1.25 

“‘The Count of Nideck,’ adapted from the French of Erckmann-Chatrian by 
Ralph Browning Fiske, is a most interesting tale, simply told, and moving with direct 
force to the end in view.” — Minneapolis Times. 

“ Rapid in movement, it abounds in dramatic incident, furnishes graphic descrip- 
tions of die locality and is enlivened with a very pretty love story.” — Troy Budget. 


Muriella ; or, Le Selve. 

By OuiDA. Illustrated by M. B. Prendergast. 

I vol., lib. i2mo, cloth .... $1.25 

“ Ouida’s literary style is almost perfect in ‘ Muriella.’ ” — Chicago Times-Herald. 

“ ‘ Muriella ’ is an admirable example of the author’s best work.” — Brooklyn 
Times. 

“ It dwells in the memory, and bears the dramatic force, tragic interest, and skilful- 
ness of treatment that mark the work of Ouidawhenat her — Pittsburg Bulletin. 


LIST OF FICTION. 


II 


Bobbie McDuff. 

By Clinton Ross, author of ''The Scarlet Coat,” 
" Zuleika,” etc. Illustrated by B. West Clinedinst. 

I vol., large i6mo, cloth .... $i.oo 

“ ‘ Bobbie McDuff,’ by Clinton Ross, is a healthy romance, tersely and vigorously 
told.” — Louisville Courier-J ournal. 

“ It is full of mystery and as fascinating as a fairy tale.” — San Francisco Chronicle. 
“ It is a well-written story, full of surprises and abounding in vivid interest.” — The 
Congregationalist, Boston. 


The Shadow of a Crime. 

A Cumbrian Romance. By Hall Caine, author of 
"The Manxman,” "The Deemster,” etc., with twelve 
full-page illustrations in half-tone, from drawings by 
M. B. Prendergast. 

I vol., cloth, illustrated, gilt top . . . $1.25 


The Works of Gabriel d' Annunzio, 

The Triumph of Death. 

The Intruder. 

The riaidens of the Rocks. 

The Child of Pleasure. 

Each, I vol., lib. i 2 mo, cloth . . . $1.50 

“ The writer of the greatest promise to-day in Italy, and perhaps one of the most 
unique figures in contemporary literature, is Gabriel d’Annunzio, the poet-novelist.” — 
The Bookman. 

“This book is realistic. Some say that it is brutally so. But the realism is that of 
Flaubert and not of Zola. There is no plain speaking for the sake of plain speaking. 
Every detail is justified in the fact that it illuminates either the motives or the actions 
of the man and woman who here st-nd revealed. It is deadly true. The author holds 
the mirror up to nature, and the reader, as he sees his own experiences duplicated in 
passage after passage, has something of the same sensation as all of us know on the 
first reading of George Meredith’s ‘ Egoist.’ Reading these pages is like being out in 
the country on a dark night in a storm. Suddenly a flash of lightning comes and every 
detail of your surroundings is revealed.” — of the Triumph of Death, in the 
New York Evening Sun. 


12 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY’S 


Mademoiselle de Berny. 

A Story of Valley Forge. By Pauline Bradford 
Mackie. With five full-page photogravures from 
drawings by Frank T. Merrill. 

Printed on deckle-edged paper, with gilt top, and 
bound in cloth. 272 pages . . . $1.50 

“ The charm of ‘ Mademoiselle de Bemy ’ lies in its singular sweetness.” — 
Boston Herald. 

“ One of the very few choice American historical stories.” — Boston Trafiscript. 

“ Real romance . . . admirably written.” — Washington Post. 

“ A stirring romance, full of life and action from start to finish.” — Toledo Daily 
Blade. 

“ Of the many romances in which Washington is made to figure, this is one of the 
most fascinating, one of the best.” — Boston Courier. 

Ye Lyttle Salem Maide. , 

A Story of Witchcraft. By Paui.ine Bradford 
Mackie, with four full-page photogravures from draw- 
ings by E. W. D. Hamilton. 

Printed on deckle-edged paper, with gilt top, and 
bound in cloth. 321 pages . . • . $1.50 

A tale of the days of the reign of superstition in New England, 
and of a brave “ lyttle maide,” of Salem Town, whose faith and hope 
and unyielding adherence to her word of honor form the basis of a 
most attractive story. Several historical characters are introduced, 
including the Rev. Cotton Mather and Governor and Lady Phipps, 
and a very convincing picture is drawn of Puritan life during the latter 
part of the seventeenth century. An especial interest is added to the 
book by the illustrations, reproduced by the photogravure process 
from originals by E. W. D. Hamilton. 


In Guiana Wilds. 

A Study of Two Women. By James Rodway, 
author of In the Guiana Forest,” etc. Illustrated. 
I vol., library i 2 mo, cloth, decorative cover, 250 
pages $1.25 

“ In Guiana Wilds ” may be described as an ethnological romance. 
A typical young Scotchman becomes, by the force of circumstances, 
decivilized, and mates with a native woman. , 

It is a psychological study of great power and ability. 


LIST OF FICTION, 


13 


Vivian of Virginia. 

Being the Memoirs of Our First Rebellion, by John 
Vivian, Esq., of Middle Plantation, Virginia. By Hul- 
BERT Fuller. With ten full-page illustrations by 
Frank T. Merrill. 

I vol., library i2mo, cloth, gilt top, deckle-edge 
paper $1.50 

" A stirring and accurate account of the famous Bacon rebellion.” — Los A ngeles 
Sunday Times. 

“We shall have to search far to find a better colonial story than this.” — Denver 
Republican. 

“ A well-conceived, well-plotted romance, full of life and adventure,” — Chicago 
Inter-Ocean. 

“ A story abounding in exciting incidents and well-told conversations.” — Boston 
Journal. 

“ Mr. Fuller will find a large circle of readers for his romance who will not be dis- 
appointed in their pleasant expectations.” — Boston Transcript. 

“ Instead of using history as a background for the exploits of the hero, the author 
used the hero to bring out history and the interesting events of those early days in 
Virginia. The author has preserved the language and customs of the times admir- 
ably.” — Philadelphia Telegram. 


The Gray House of the Quarries. 

By Mary Harriott Norris. With a frontispiece 
etching by Edmund H. Garrett. 

I vol., 8vo, cloth, 500 pages . . . $1.50 

“ The peculiar genre, for which, in a literary sense, all must acknowledge obliga- 
tion to the author of a new type, is the Dutch - American species. The church-goings, 
the courtings, the pleasures and sorrows of a primitive people, their lives and deaths, 
weddings, suicides, births and burials, are Rembrandt and Rubens pictures on a fresh 
canvas. ” — Boston T ranscript. 

“ The fine ideal of womanhood in a person never once physically described will 
gratify the highest tone of the period, and is an ennobling conception.” — Time and 
The Hour, Boston. 

A Hypocritical Romance and Other Stories. 

By Caroline Ticknor. Illustrated by J. W. Ken- 
nedy. 

I vol., large i6mo, cloth . . . . ' $1.00 

Miss Ticknor, well known as one of the most promising of the 
younger school of American writers, has never done better work than 
in the majority of these clever stories, written in a delightful comedy 
vein. 


14 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY’S 


A Man=at“Arms. 

A Romance of the days of Gian Galeazzo Visconti, 
the Great Viper. By Clinton Scollard, author of 
“ Skenandoa,” etc. With six full-page illustrations 
and title-page by E. W. D. Hamilton. 

I vol., library 1 2 mo, cloth, gilt top, deckle-edge 
paper $1.50 

The scene of the story is laid in Italy, in the latter part of the 
fourteenth century. The hero, Luigi della Verria, unable to bear 
the restrictions of home or to reconcile himself to the profession of 
law, as desired by his father, leaves his family and, as the result of 
chance, becomes a man-at-arms in the service of Gian Galeazzo Vis- 
conti, the cunning and unscrupulous Lord of Pavia, known as the 
Great Viper. Thenceforward the vicissitudes and adventures, both 
in love and war, of Della Verria, are told in a way to incite the in- 
terest to the highest point ; and a strong picture is drawn of Italian 
life at this period, with its petty vendettas, family broils, and the un- 
principled methods employed by the heads of noble families to gain 
their personal ends. 

An individual value is added to the book by the illustrations and 
title-page, drawn by Mr. E. W. D. Hamilton. 

“ The style is admirable, simple, direct, fluent, and sometimes eloquent ; and the 
story moves with rapidity from start to finish.” — The Bookman, , 

“ A good story.” — N. Y. Commercial A dvertiser. 

It is a triumph in style.” — Utica Herald, 


Cyrano de Bergerac. 

A Heroic Comedy from the French of Edward Ros- 
stand, as accepted and played by Richard Mansfield. 
Translated by Howard Thayer Kingsbury. 

I vol., cloth decorative, with a photogravure frontis- 
piece $1.00 

I vol., paper boards .50 

The immediate and prolonged success of “Cyrano de Bergerac,” in 
Paris, has been paralleled by Mr. Mansfield’s success with an English 
version, dating from its first night at the Garden Theatre, New York, 
October 3, 1898. 

As a literary work, the original form of Rostand took high rank ; 
and the preference of Mr. Mansfield for Mr. Kingsbury’s new trans- 
lation implies its superior merit. 


LIST OF FICTION. 


15 


A flad Madonna and Other Stories. 

By L. Clarkson Whitelock. With eight half-tone 
illustrations. 

I vol., large i 6 mo, cloth .... $1.00 

A half dozen remarkable psychological stories, delicate in color and 
conception. Each of the six has a touch of the supernatural, a quick 
suggestion, a vivid intensity, and a dreamy realism that is matchless 
in its forceful execution. 


On the Point. 

A Summer Idyl. By Nathan Haskell Dole, au- 
thor of “Not Angels Quite,” with dainty half-tone 
illustrations as chapter headings. 

I vol., large i 6 mo, cloth . . . . $1.00 

a bright and clever story of a summer on the coast of Maine, fresh, 
breezy, and readable from the first to the last page. The narrative 
describes the summer outing of a Mr. Merrithew and his family. The 
characters are all honest, pleasant people, whom we are glad to know. 
We part from them with the same regret with which we leave a com 
genial party of friends. 



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